Stranger in a Strange Land
by DeLyse
Summary: Lynette gets unexpectedly dumped in Skyrim after being rejected at the College of Winterhold, but learns of someone who could teach her the fundamentals of magic. Will she be able to face the college again? Will Farengar ever learn to be nice? OCxFarengar
1. Magic is for the Weak

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything even remotely related to Skyrim; this disclaimer extends to every chapter here on out.**_

_(AN: Sinmir is the guy in The Bannered Mare who sounds a little like Arnold Schwarzenegger when he talks, so that's who I always picture when I'm playing Skyrim and I hear his voice. Just for kicks, try it out yourself – go ahead and picture Arnie sitting there in the inn instead of Sinmir. It makes this first part even more fun!)_

Chapter One  
Magic is for the Weak

Fredas, 8th of Second Seed, 4E 198 - three years before the main events of _Skyrim_.

Raucous laughter filled the bar area. Jon Battle-Born raised his pint to Sinmir as the burly warrior in the crooked horned iron helm continued his drunken tale.

"So I went to go outside – no listen! I went to go outside, but…somehow I ended upinthekishhen." He stopped to take a quick swig of his mead, oblivious to the other drinkers laughing at his slurred word jumble, which had gotten progressively worse since the last half hour. Sinmir slammed his mug down. "Where was I? Oh, kishhen… So, I'm in zhere, and I smell somesing real good. Turns out Olfa –"

"—It's Olfina—"

"—Olfina… Olfina was batching up a cook of leeks. Er…"

The whole inn burst into a fresh round of roaring laughter, but Sinmir could only manage a boyish giggle as he realized where he went wrong. "Cooking a…batch… You getze idea! Anyhow – no listen! So anyhow, I start grabbing zem from the pan and shoving zem in my mouth when Olfifa walks in, and she says 'Sinmir, I thought you was going to take a leak?' And I look her dead in ze eye and says…I am! BWAHAHA!

And this is what Lynette had the pleasure of walking in to.

"Ah!" A darker man in rags, grimy from his boots to his frayed cap, slapped an arm around the young woman and laughed. "Well if it ain't my favorite drinkin' buddy! Let's get some mead."

"E-Excuse me?" Lynette stammered. Her nose wrinkled at the heavy aroma of alcohol on his breath.

"How ya been, buddy?"

"I'm sorry, do I know you…?"

A middle-aged woman called out from behind the bar where the laughing group of men gathered, "Brenuin! Leave the poor girl alone!"

"Girl?" The old beggar looked her over, confused, then released her somewhat ungracefully. "Oh."

"Leave the fine lady be," another called, this one male. He was dressed in somewhat cleaner clothes and was strumming a beautiful lute in his hands.

"I ain't done nothin'!" Brenuin said, and sulked away to find his bottle.

Lynette blinked. Barely stepped two feet into this inn and already I'm getting accosted by strangers…

Skyrim had so far turned out to be a very cold, very strange, and very lonely place for the young woman. Though, she had been to Whiterun once before (just the day before, actually), she had not stayed long enough to witness the hold's nightlife, and when she was up during the evening in The Bannered Mare, she had stayed locked in her room with a book in her lap and a pillow propped behind her head.

Of course, she was by no means new to raucous drinkers. At the inn in Bruma where she had worked as a barmaid until very recently, she had to deal with drunken patrons nearly every night. But what was it about Nord drinkers that was so different? That they were taller, broader, more prone to a fistfight? Is that what made her nervous, or the fact that she was merely in an unfamiliar land surrounded by complete strangers?

She shook the snow from her hood and approached the bar. One stool stood empty. She claimed it quietly, trying not to look at the burly brute in the horned helm beside her.

"What can I get you? We've got warm drinks, warm food, and warm beds," the innkeeper announced from behind the bar. Hulda was her name; Lynette remembered her from her last visit.

"I'd like a bowl of soup," she replied. "Any kind, just something hot."

Hulda smiled at her, then turned to a young woman with a broom behind her. "Olfina, dear. Soup for the young lady."

"Yes, mum."

"Say, don't I know you?" Hulda asked, studying her face.

"I rented a room from you yesterday." Lynette slid her hood off and let her brunette hair fall from the pins holding it back.

"Ah, yes. I remember you now." The Nord crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. "What's wrong, girl? You were all smiles yesterday. What's got you so down?"

The Nord named Olfina returned from behind the innkeeper with a steaming bowl and a spoon. She set the meal before Lynette and gave her a quick smile before being called over to tend to someone else. The group of men to her right abruptly burst into a fresh line of laughter. Lynette waited for their voices to die down before answering.

"I got rejected from the college."

"The College of Winterhold?"

"Yes. They turned me right around." She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling a knot there. "I couldn't summon a Flame Atronach."

Lynette was expecting some kind of sympathy from the woman, even if it was just an, "Oh, I'm sorry dear," but Hulda's pretty face became a snarl.

"Pfft. I should have guessed as much. Your kind sticks to that college, as well as they should."

Lynette visibly shrank in her seat. "I-I'm sorry…?"

Hulda put her hands on the bar top and looked at her with something akin to pity. "Magic is for the weak, dear. For the elves. Let them keep to their college, away from here."

Lynette had no idea what to say. In Cyrodiil, while necromancy was illegal, magic was something exciting, and it was a privilege to be able to wield such energies. At least, it used to be… Cyrodiil had its fair share of negativity, as well.

But this was downright prejudice.

She took her spoon and began sipping on her soup. It scorched her tongue to eat at its current temperature, but it was better than sitting there, staring at the floor in awkward silence.

"Of course, there is Farengar," Hulda went on, reaching for a cloth to clean the bar top with. "He may be a wizard, but at least he's a Nord. You'd never think to learn from a Nord like the Jarl's wizard."

Keep your head down and your mouth shut, Lynette told herself. Head down, mouth shut.

She finished her soup as fast as she could and paid for it as well as a bed for the night. She wanted only to sleep now and leave bright and early in the morning to go far, far away from Skyrim as she possibly could. Maybe she'd even pass Bruma and go straight to the Imperial City, live quietly as a failure away from her family. She wasn't sure she could look them in the eyes. They were so excited about her leaving for the college. Hot tears stung her eyes.

Lynette hurried to the steps in the back of the inn, her head down and her heart heavy. A drunken patron bumped into her, almost knocking her over, and tried to apologize, but she was already up the stairs by the time he wobbled around to face her. Once she was safely in her room, she locked the door, sat on the edge of the bed, and wept into her hands.


	2. Fated

Chapter Two  
Fated

Lynette was up was up with the sun and had her things packed and ready to go in record time. She made her way out of The Bannered Mare without so much of a glance back and hurried down the stone street to the hold gates. Once she was outside, making her way down toward the carriage that was parked by the stables, she slowed in pace and let her thoughts catch up with her. What was she going to do? She still wanted to be a mage, more than anything. Perhaps going to live in the Imperial City was a good, solid idea after all? There was bound to be someone there that practiced, someone willing to accept an apprentice to take under their wing. She wouldn't mind having to have a job on the side to make ends meet if she had to.

Things could look up. She just had to try.

"Where do you want to go, young lady?"

Lynette looked up at the carriage driver, shielding her blue eyes, still puffy from sleep, from the sun's bright morning rays. "How far to Cyrodiil can you take me?"

"I can take you to Helgen, but no further. There's a carriage there that can take you across the border from there."

With a nod, Lynette reached around for her coin purse…only to realize with a sudden jolt of terror that it wasn't there. She froze still, her mind blank and her heart beating like an angry bird in a cage. She could feel the carriage driver's stare on her. Struggling to restart her mind, she met his dark eyes and gave a nervous smile.

"I-I know I have it," she said, more to herself than him, as she brought her pack down to her feet and began rummaging through it. "I had it last night. I paid for my dinner and… I remember having it…"

"I'm sorry, miss. But if you don't have the coin…"

"I have it!" she cried; then, with less volume, "I do… It's somewhere…" She ducked into her pack, embarrassed, and dug all the way to the bottom. Nothing but books and clothing. Her gold was not there.

Slowly, she rose and put the pack around her shoulders. "I may have left it at the inn. Will you still be here if I go check?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he answered. "Not 'til I'm paid to go."

She nodded and started off toward the hold gates at the top of the winding hill, stopping only when she realized she had completely left her pack behind. She turned, went back for it, gave the driver a short, rueful laugh, and headed for the hold once again.

She entered the inn and looked around. The Nord woman whom had served her last night was up, wiping off all the tables. Behind the bar, Lynette could hear mugs and tankards clinking. She guessed Hulda was cleaning up, as well.

Olfina smiled at Lynette as she came in. "Good morning. Didn't see you leave."

"Oh, um, yes – I was in a hurry." Lynette shook her head. "Please, could I go back up to my room, just for a few moments? I may have left something behind…"

"Go right ahead," Olfina replied. "It's no trouble at all."

Lynette dashed up the stairs, tripped on the very last step, but regained her footing before she could fall headfirst onto the nightstand at the top. She opened the doors to the room. There were so many places to look…all of which she knew she would never have left her money. Her heart sank with the thought. _But still_, _I have to look. It could be in here…_

She checked the entire room, top to bottom. She checked the bed, above and below it. She felt the pillows in case the septims spontaneously materialized into the center of them. She checked everything, and she checked it twice. Her gold was gone. She had no way to get home.

She was stuck in Skyrim.

Numbed from shock, she shakily lowered herself onto the bed, only vaguely aware of what she was doing. A long period of stillness came over her in which there were no thoughts in her mind, only the tight, sharp feeling of growing panic while the enormity of the situation settled heavy on her shoulders. When she could think again, a realization began to dawn on her. The man from last night, the one she bumped into on the way to the stairs... It was him. He stole her coin purse. Aside from the drunken homeless man whom had mistaken her for someone else (a boy, no less, she remembered with a slight sting), no one else had come near enough to take anything from her. It _had_ to have been that man…

In a rare display of temper, she hit the bed with her fist. It did nothing to quell the flood of frustration that threatened to tear her to pieces.

...

...

Lynette sat on the steps at the lip of what Whiterun had dubbed the Wind District, overlooking the Plains District's market area. Behind her, a tall, gnarled tree stood in the center of the district, appearing to be almost dead, if it were not already. Below her, she listened to the citizens selling their goods and wares.

"Fresh baked loaves, still warm from the oven!"

"Chops and steaks, fit for a Jarl!"

"Shiny trinkets for your good laaady!"

Once the shock of everything had worn off, she spent the last few hours sitting alone in deep thought. The facts were, she had no coin; she was stuck in a foreign country; she was alone. She had to start thinking about survival.

In her bag, she had clothing and books. On her right hand, a thin silver ring from her mother. She could pawn the books and the ring, use the money for food. Looking for employment would have to come next. As far as work went, she did have experience with an inn. She was a hard worker, made sure all the bedding was done before noon and still had time to prepare for the lunch rush. The only problem was, after that short talk with Hulda about "her kind", Lynette wasn't sure the stout Nord woman would hire her at all.

She remembered seeing farms outside of the hold. It was a possibility, but she wasn't so sure she liked the thought of that kind of work. Lynette had been born and raised a city girl. She would take the trash and stink of the streets over the smell of cow manure any day. If it came down to it, however, she would do it. To survive, she would have to.

After gathering herself, Lynette flagged down a guard and asked if there was a shop nearby. He pointed her to two buildings down below in the Plains District, the rightmost one being the one she was looking for. She thanked him and hurried down the steps and to the door.

Upon entering, a gust of heat met her chilled skin, and she thanked the Divines for it. A fire pit blazed to her left. A stuffed deer head on a plaque was mounted above it. One glance at the store's owner told Lynette that the man did not hunt that deer himself and most likely bought it to impress. Another man, younger than the owner, idly swept the floor on her right.

"Welcome!" the man behind the counter, presumably the Belethor the shop was named after, boomed. "Everything's for sale, my friend. Everything!" He waved a hand around for emphasis, then slapped it down on the counter to add a little conspiringly: "If I had a sister, I'd sell her in a second!"

Lynette didn't quite know whether to laugh or leave quietly. She settled for something closer to the former, cautiously stepping up to the counter with a shy chuckle and an unsure smile. "Hello…"

"You Breton?" he asked, cocking his head.

"On my father's side."

"Well, hey. It's good to see another fellow Breton, even if you are only partly." He tapped his palm on the counter with a swiping motion. "I'll give you a discount on _any_-thing you want."

"Oh, well thank you," Lynette replied. Strange as the man was, it still warmed her heart to meet someone who bared kindness somewhere in them."I have a few things I would like to sell, if you are willing to take them."

"Of course. I buy and trade just about anything. I'd even buy one of your relatives, if you were selling!"

Again, she wondered, was she supposed to laugh, or be concerned?

"Heh heh! That's just a little joke…"

"Oh..." She tried to smile, but the muscles seemed to rebel against her, causing the corners of her mouth to twitch instead. Quickly, she slipped her pack from her shoulder and set it on the counter. "I hope you accept spell tomes."

"Oh, yes. Spell tomes, spell staffs – just about anything," he assured. When Lynette withdrew the books, he immediately took them from her hands and began looking them over. "Mm… Fifteen for this one, and…sixteen for the other." He looked up. "That sound about fair?"

"Yes, absolutely." Lynette's heart quickened. She hadn't expected to receive so much for just two books. She felt bad to have to part with them – they had been a gift from her father, after all, for her future magical studies that were to be done at the college.

Lynette could not help but think that she was selling her hopes and dreams away as she accepted the gold for the tomes. She cleared her head with a soft exhale of her breath and reminded herself why she was there.

"Ah, and one more thing." She pulled the small silver ring from her finger and placed it on the counter. "How much could I get for this ring?"

Belethor picked up the item and rotated it in the light with a small frown. "I'd say ten septims."

"Only ten?"

"We'll, it's not exactly a sight to see, is it?"

She tried not to let the comment scratch at her. The ring had been sort of a family heirloom, passed on from her grandmother to her mother, and now to her. It was old, a little tarnished, but perfectly beautiful to her. "What about that discount you offered?"

"That's only if you're buying," he quickly interjected. "You _are_ going to buy something, aren't you?"

Lynette shook her head. "I'm sorry. Nevermind, I'd like it back. It's important to me."

The Breton dropped the ring back in her palm and sighed. Lynette could tell he wasn't completely satisfied with the overall trade, but knew once she left he would most likely raise the price of the two spell tomes to three, perhaps even four times what he gave her. _Then again, _she reminded herself as she gathered her pack, _the Nords around here all seem to treat magic as taboo… Maybe he won't even get a buyer for them. _The bad side of her conscious sincerely hoped so.

Lynette left feeling neither hopeful nor hopeless. She now had the coin to feed herself for a few days, and still had her ring. Part of her was glad she didn't go through with selling it.

Directly to her right, a swinging sign caught her eye. A mortar and pestle was carved into the thick wood – an apothecary shop, she was sure. Or could it be a job opportunity? She did have experience with minor potion-making and often helped close the shop with her mother back home. Before she could think of an excuse not to go inside, she stepped up to the door and pushed it open.

Lynette was greeted by the unexpected sight of a woman on her fours dabbing at a mess on the floor in the corner by an alchemy table. She looked away as not to be rude and waited for the woman to take notice of her standing there.

"Oh, hello! I'll be with you in…" – the woman held her breath a beat, scrubbing vigorously at the spill, then exhaled – "…just a moment…"

Lynette stood on the tips of her toes, craning her neck to see over the woman's shoulder. "Do you need help?"

"No, it's fine dear. I have it." The woman looked back with a laugh. "Just a spill." She reached into her pocket and pulled out an unused handkerchief and began sopping up the rest of the liquid from the accident. "Feel free to browse."

Curiosity lead Lynette to take the offer. The counters and shelves on the left-hand side of the store were stocked from top to bottom with potions and ingredients that she had never seen before. There were bowls of salts and bone meal, gnarled roots and glowing knots of wood, fungi of various types – some she knew, some she didn't; crowns of flowers, both dried and fresh, insect wings of all sizes, something meaty and disturbing she couldn't quite figure out, and vials upon vials of potions, tonics, and salves in all colors and types. Lynette could just see her mother having a field day in here.

The woman tossed the soiled handkerchiefs in a back room and clasped her hands together. "I am very sorry about that. I'm Arcadia. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you might be looking for help to hire?"

"Ah, well…not particularly. I mean, I _could_ use some help around here, stocking and gathering herbs. What do you know about alchemy?"

"I know very little," she admitted hesitantly, but add quickly, "I do know the basics. Healing potions…ones to restore magicka energy…a scalp salve for hair growth. Er, not for _me_ – we had a regular customer who came in for that."

"Customer?"

Lynette absently noticed sweat beads forming on the woman's brow, but went on explaining. "My mother owns an alchemy shop back home in Cyrodiil. I used to work for her."

"Ah! Cyrodiil… I haven't been there in so many years. Are you Imperial? You don't seem to look it…" She cocked her head to the side. "Then again, I suppose you do."

Lynette never thought her heritage would take so much notice in Skyrim, but then again, she was in _Skyrim_ – anyone who didn't look Nord probably stuck out like a sore thumb to the natives. She did notice that in Cyrodiil, she was neither too short nor too tall when compared to the locals, but in the Fatherland, everyone around her towered over her in height. Her complexion was a healthy peach color, from her mother, as her father was as white and pasty as the Nords, as most Breton peoples were. Dark brown tresses and a set of deep blue eyes topped off her foreign appearance, as most of the Nords she had seen had the light hair and fair eyes of the north (with a few exceptions, of course; but even those exceptions had a decidedly Nord look and demeanor to them).

The older woman smiled at her in a way that seemed almost motherly, and in her heart Lynette knew she had a job now. It was meant to happen. Which of the divines had decided this fate for her, she wondered? Was Kynareth blessing her with this fortunate happening after all the bad that had happened to her? Had Zenithar not forgotten her after all? It was hard to say.

"Are you…all right?" Lynette asked, watching Arcadia's expression drop to one of discomfort.

"I… I don't know… I feel strange."

"You don't look well."

The woman leaned against the counter with one hand brought the other up to her forehead. The tips of her fingers were stained a greenish-black color, the color of grass and tar swirled together.

As she held onto the counter unsteadily, Lynette hurried around to her side and supported her with her arm. Her mind screamed _poison_, and she was almost certain that was the case here. She lead the woman over to a chair in the corner by a cabinet and then went back to the counter to begin rummaging through the potions stocked there. She prayed she would find something familiar. She turned to the shelves behind her and stood on her tip-toes, glancing over the labels on the vials at the top – grabbed the one on the right with a sharp intake of breath, and raced to Arcadia's side. She uncorked the vial and brought it to the woman's parted lips, holding the back of her head to encourage her to tilt back and drink.

Arcadia was quiet, but once her vision was restored, she focused her dark eyes on Lynette. "Thank you… Thank you so much."

"Are you sure you're feeling better?" Lynette looked at the small potion of Cure Poison and back to the woman with a frown. "I can get another…"

"No, I'm fine, I just don't understand…" She looked down at her dress and around her body, patted down her ribs and her sides, then noticed her hands and brought them closer to her face for inspection. There on the tip of her right index finger was a thin cut, darkened to a black slit from the stain of the potion she had been cleaning up off the floor earlier. "Goodness me… I can't believe I'd be that clumsy!"

"It's all right," Lynette assured her. "Once, when my brother was very young, he got into the hair salve… The next morning he had a full beard, and we couldn't figure out what had happened for at least a day. And he was only eight at the time."

Arcadia offered an absent smile, but seemed so engrossed in her disbelief that Lynette wondered if she even heard what was said. "Thank you again… I just can't believe that. I've been working with alchemy since I was your age – I've made _many_ mistakes, yes, but not lately…"

"Not lately…?"

The door behind her opened, and in walked an older gentleman in decent clothing. Lynette almost wondered if he truly was a Nord, as his face was clean and his belly big, as if the man had barely worked hard a day in his life. The air around him, as well as his prideful stance, suggested he was indeed Nord, though.

"I'll be with you in a just a moment—"

"—No, you sit. I'll get it."

"I'm fine, I just…need a moment."

This was her chance. Lynette ignored her and approached the man with a smile. "What do you need help with, sir?"

The man seemed go rigid at the question. Lynette started going over reasons as to what went wrong – was it her approach, her looks; was she over-friendly or not friendly enough? – when Arcadia leaned forward a bit and said, "The usual Olfrid?"

"Eh…yeah, the usual." He cleared his throat and straightened his coat.

Lynette looked back to Arcadia for direction. "On the shelf, behind the counter to your right. Very top, left side. Light-green vial."

With a nod, Lynette went behind the counter and plucked the little vial from the shelf. She handed it to the man and accepted the coin, thanking him kindly for his purchase, and watched him walk out of the store with flushed cheeks. Arcadia must have seen Lynette's confused expression, for she began explaining immediately.

"That's Olfrid Battle-Born. He's getting a little old…needs that extra 'something'."

Lynette felt her cheeks warm with a blush when realization hit her. "Oh…"

"You get to know a lot about people's personal lives in this profession. Sometimes you learn _too_ much, but that's the way it goes, I suppose."

Arcadia got to her feet. Lynette went to help her, but the woman held up a hand to stop her and smiled at her warmly. "Listen. If you'd still like to help me, I could hire you… But I'm warning you, some of the work can be hard."

"I am willing to work," Lynette assured her.

"Come with me, then. I have a lot to show you, and I'm only going to show you once."

* * *

_A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who read, and especially those whom were kind enough to leave a review. There were so many kind comments, all of which touched my heart. Thank you!_


	3. The Elixir

_**A/N:**__ Warning! Farengar might be a little OC, but it's for a very good reason! Here's a bit of a spoiler: remember when you give Arcadia the frost salts from Farengar and she says it's for a "special" brew she's working on? You get the hint…_

* * *

Chapter Three  
The Elixir

It was a bright, warm Fredas morning. Lynette stopped at the edge of the rock to admire the scenery. Whiterun was beautiful from afar, circled by tall walls that hugged the hold protectively. Dragonsreach stood tall from the rest of the structures, declaring its dominance. To her right was Pelagia farm. Behind her, the woods where she had been gathering herbs and mountain flowers for Arcadia for the past hour.

Lynette had only been working for Arcadia for about a week now, and things were going well. She found herself gathering ingredients for her most days. Lynette couldn't complain. She was left alone, and preferred the solitude. Thoughts of home, of the college, were finally becoming a thing of the past. She was actually enjoying her job, and was beginning to get to know and really like the people of Whiterun.

Movement caught her eye, and Lynette turned eastward and shielded her eyes from the sun. Four figures made their way along the road, headed for the hold. All four were heavily armored, from what she could see, and seemed to be engrossed in conversation. As they neared the fork in the road, Lynette could make them out clearer. They were members of the Companions, a group of like-minded warrior mercenaries. She had heard many good things about them. Theirs was a path of honor and bravery.

The four took the right side path, turning toward the Whiterun stables. Lynette smiled and sighed. It was time to get back to work. She put her hand over the basket handle on her other arm and stepped back, but a low growl made her stop.

_Oh Divines…_

She turned very slowly. Two sets of eyes were on her, framed in black, grungy fur. Lynette took a small step back. The two wolves prowled forward, snarling. She took another step back. Her heels met the edge of the rock, and behind her a thirty-foot drop awaited her.

There was no time to think. Lynette dropped the basket of flowers and brought both hands out in front of her. Flames erupted from her palms and shot out at the wolf on the left. Its fur ignited, and the animal let out a pitiful cry as it tumbled back. The wolf on the right was not as slow, and went for the closest limb it could.

Teeth clinched around Lynette's forearm and sunk to the bone. Pain shot up her arm like lightening, and she screamed, stumbling to the side. Hot tears streaked down her cheeks. The wolf brought her down on her butt with one hard yank, and Lynette's first instincts were to kick and thrash. The beast was much stronger than she thought. If she didn't gain the upper hand, it would go for her throat.

Her left elbow held her up, but she sacrificed staying up to bring her left hand, burning with a terror-charged flame spell, at the animal's eye. It yelped and let go, swinging its head around wildly. Lynette took the opportunity to scramble to her feet, but the wolf was just too fast. It lunged at her, a ravenous hunger in its eyes. The whoosh of an arrow zipped past her arm so close, she felt the wind from it, and it tore into the wolf's other eye with a sickening _thunk_, sending it backward. The creature twitched and convulsed, and then was still.

Lynette heard footsteps from somewhere, but was too much in shock to place the direction or how close they were. She could only stare at the arrow jutting out of the wolf's eye socket, unaware of her slack jaw and wide, terrified eyes.

"Are you hurt?" The voice was strong, female. Lynette tore her sights away from the grizzly scene to stare into a pair of questioning hazel eyes. The woman's face was partially masked in green face pant. She held a bow in her hand, and a quiver of arrows peeked out from over her shoulder.

"I-I'm fine," she heard herself say, but her voice seemed foreign to her ears. She sniffled. Tears still flowed from her eyes, though she was not crying.

"You're wounded. Let me look."

The woman placed her bow down and lifted Lynette's ravaged arm gently by the elbow to inspect the damage. Lynette hissed as a new wave of pain jolted her awake. A grayed, balding man dropped to his knee beside the woman to take a look, as well. From behind them, one of the other two in the group shouted, "By the Divines, look what she did to _that_ one!"

The older man ripped a long piece of cloth from his arm and helped the woman to wrap Lynette's arm up.

"What is your name?" she asked. "Can you stand?"

"Lynette. My name is Lynette. And yes, I think I can manage to…"

"You're no common farm-girl," the older man said. "Lucky for you."

"I'm just thankful you were near by," Lynette said to the woman, accepting her hand to stand. She held her arm to her chest like an injured bird and leaned over to pick up her basket of flowers. "Thank you for saving me."

"Do you need to see one of the acolytes at the Temple of Kynareth? We can take you there."

"No, it's all right. I work for Arcadia. She's bound to have a few healing potions around."

"Come. We'll walk you back," the woman said.

Lynette was guided past the two wolf corpses by the woman and the older man. The two other Companions stayed behind to gut them and skin the wolf that wasn't damaged by Lynette's flame spell.

"You seemed to handle yourself well against those wolves," the woman said as they treaded down the side of the rock and toward the main road.

"Not well enough," Lynette said. "If it weren't for your arrow, I would be wolf food by now."

"Perhaps all you need is a few lessons in swordplay," she said. "Magic is nice, but when it comes down to a fight, magic is too slow."

"Nothing sends a message that you mean business like the swing of a blade," the older man pitched in.

Lynette didn't know what to say, so she simply said nothing.

The two Companions walked her through the gates into Whiterun and toward the center of the Plains District. The older man opened and held the door to Arcadia's Cauldron and Lynette was helped inside by the woman. Arcadia was behind the counter and had opened her mouth to say a greeting when she saw Lynette's hastily bandaged arm.

"Lynette! Are you all right?" Arcadia hurried from around the corner and helped Lynette to the chair in the back. "Here, sit. Tell me what happened." She scurried behind the counter to sift through her potions and ingredients while the woman explained.

"We found her up against some wolves. Got to her before anything else could happen," the man said.

"My goodness!" Arcadia replied, returning to Lynette's side with two red colored vials. She handed them both to Lynette. "Drink one, and if it doesn't heal it all the way, take the other."

Lynette did as she was told and gulped down the contents of the first bottle. The potion was thick, like syrup, and had a tart taste to it, like something sour and sweet at the same time. The effects were almost immediate. A warmth spread through her body and gathered in a concentrated cloud at her injured arm. The pain slowly dispersed as the mixture repaired punctured muscle, restored torn tendons. When the effect faded, she unwrapped her arm. There was scarring and drying blood in place of the wound.

"Oh, wonderful!" Arcadia said. "I was hoping that would do it. Let's get you cleaned up."

Lynette stood and smiled at the two Companions. "I am honored to have been saved by members of the Companions. Thank you."

"Next time, bring a sword," the older man said. They smiled at her and left the store.

"You had quite an adventure, it sounds like," Arcadia said.

"I had to venture past the roads. I've already picked every flower around the hold," Lynette explained.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that." Arcadia poured water into a bowl and dipped a clean cloth into it. "I can't believe the guards along the roads didn't see you."

"I'm fine now." Lynette exhaled heavily. "A bit shaken, but I'm fine."

Arcadia rung out the cloth and began dabbing at Lynette's arm. "How did you survive that?"

"I managed to burn one of them with a flame spell. The other attacked me and brought me down. If the Companions hadn't heard me scream, I don't think I'd be alive to tell you this right now."

"Thank the Divines you're alright. And don't worry about the healing potion, it's free of charge."

Lynette smiled stiffly while part of her wondered, _Was she really thinking of charging me for that…?_

"There. All cleaned up. You'll have a terrible scar now, but…think of it as a reminder to bring a weapon with you from now on."

"I have my magic. I'll be better prepared next time, if there is a next time."

"All right then, dear." Arcadia wiped her brow with the back of her hand and sighed. "Well, I have quite a bit of work to do. I'm backed up at the moment. Thank goodness you thought to bring the rest of those ingredients."

"Do you need help with anything?"

A frown creased Arcadia's brow, making her light wrinkles appear deeper. "Are you sure you should be working right now?"

"I'm fine now." Lynette rolled her arm around for good measure. "See? I'm ready to help."

"Actually, there _is_ something you could do for me." The Imperial woman walked over to the counter, pulled out a parchment, a vial of ink, and a quill, and began writing something. "Farengar, the Jarl's court wizard, has some frost salts for me. I need you to pick them up." She finished writing and handed the paper to Lynette. "I've already paid for them, I just need for you to get them."

"That sounds simple enough."

"Oh!" The woman spun around and looked through the vials on the walls, then plucked one from the middle shelf. "Here. Give this to him. A…gift for his services."

. . .

. . .

Lynette changed quickly into a new set of dresses, ones that weren't gnawed at on the sleeves, and hurried downstairs. Her mind hadn't stopped racing since Arcadia had asked her to go see the Jarl's wizard. _I bet he's old and wise, with a long white beard and thin gray eyes_, she thought. _And what if he accepts me as an apprentice? Then I can finally get into the Winterhold college!_

All she needed to do was convince him she would be a good pupil.

Once Lynette was ready, she made her way toward Dragonsreach. The skies were still sunny and bright, but once she climbed the stone steps up to the Reach, she could see sets of dark clouds making their way toward Whiterun from the west. She made it to the top with a little breath to spare and approached the guard by the tall wooden doors.

"What business have you here?"

"I was sent by Arcadia," Lynette set, handing the folded parchment to the guard. He read over it and handed it back.

"Come with me. No funny business, you hear?"

"No, sir," she said. "None."

Once inside, Lynette had to keep herself from stopping to look at everything. The keep was huge, the ceiling too tall for her to accurately measure. A long rug the color of grain with orange and blue embroidering all around it was laid out before four short sets of wooden steps that lead into the dining hall. She timidly followed the guard up them and to the right-hand side of the keep, where a tall, wide doorway lead into another room. She stopped at the threshold as the guard walked in and nodded to a man leaning over a desk.

"What is it?" the man at the desk asked, standing straight and stepping away with an irritated frown.

"This girl was sent by Arcadia. Has some business with you."

The wizard set his eyes on Lynette. "Come in. Hurry it up." His Nord accent was strong, she noted. Perhaps he was from a deeper part of Skyrim?

Lynette walked inside and stood before the wizard. He was tall, most definitely Nord, and wore fine robes of the darkest blue, with a soft gold trim. His strong face was shadowed by a hood, but his eyes shown bright beneath them. _So this is a real mage…_ She imagined robes like his on her and could not help the smile that tried to creep up on her.

"Who are you and what's so important that you would interrupt me?"

"Oh, um… I'm Lynette, Arcadia's assistant. She says you have some frost salts for her?"

"Ah, yes. That." The wizard walked to the door in the far corner of the room and went inside. He came back out carrying a bowl of what looked like little light blue crystals. He handed them to her.

"Thank you." Lynette looked up at him, but the wizard said nothing back. He didn't even smile, only looked down at her with contempt as though she were a homeless street child.

"What are you still standing there for?"

"Ah, well…" Lynette reached into a pouch at her side and withdrew the potion. The potion slipped; her hands fumbled, caught it, and she laughed, embarrassed. The wizard still did not remark. "Here… From Arcadia."

Farengar took the potion an examined it. "Ah. An Enchanter's Potion. How thoughtful."

He looked at her, waited. Lynette still did not move. Inside, her mind was turning over a question. _Should I ask? How should I word it? Will he say yes?_

"Is there…something _else_?" he asked, not bothering to hide the snap in his tone.

"I, um… Well, I don't suppose you take on apprentices, do you?" she said.

"No. I don't. Now, if you could leave, I have some very important things to be doing."

"Oh. All right."

Lynette turned, feeling the bitter sting of disappointment. _Well, _that_ went well_, she thought dryly, making her way out of the dining hall and to the door. How was she supposed to become a true mage if no one was willing to help her? _Perhaps next time, if there is a next time, I should offer payment_? She sighed.

. . .

. . .

Lynette sat at the bottom of the steps in front of the market area, watching the vendors pack up and lock up for the day. It was dark now, and a light drizzle had begun. Once she had finished with Arcadia earlier on, she asked to be free for the day, and the older woman was very agreeable. _"After __what you went through today,"_ she had said, _"I wouldn't ask anything but for you to rest! We need you well and ready to work tomorrow…"_

Lynette brought her knees up to her chest and rested her elbows over them, staring off at nothing in particular. She just wanted to be a mage. Why was that so hard to do? Was she asking too much of fate? What was she _doing_ in Skyrim? Should she leave and try her luck elsewhere, or should she give up and stay put, see just what fate had in store for her?

"No offense, but you're not looking so good," came a voice from in front of her somewhere. Lynette looked up to see the wood elf at the meats stall looking at her. "Are you ill?"

"No." Lynette sighed and looked back down. "I'm upset."

"Perhaps what you need is someone to listen," he offered. She looked up again and was touched to see a friendly smile on his elven face.

"I don't think you want to listen to the woes of a failed mage."

"Oh, but see, now you've interested me," he said. "I'm Anoriath. I've seen you around the potion shop quite a few times. Do you work there?"

"I do. My name is Lynette."

The bosmer waved a hand at the empty seat on the steps beside her. "May I?" Lynette nodded, and he sat. "So, you say you're a failed mage?"

"I am. I know only a minor spell, and apparently that's not good enough to get into the college of Winterhold." She glanced at him, hugging her knees to her chest. "They wanted me to summon a Flame Atronach. A _Flame Atronach!_ I thought the point of going to the college was to learn _how_ to cast something like that…but I guess I was wrong."

"Can't you learn how on your own? I hear Belathor sells spell tomes."

Lynette shook her head. "I've looked. He doesn't have it, and what he does have costs so much, it makes me regret selling the spell tomes I did have."

"I'm sorry to hear that, friend."

"Don't be. It was a learning experience." She buried her face in the crook of her arm. "When I was little, my father used to tell me about the Mages Guilds in Cyrodiil, how there were many, and apprentices went to them to learn all manner of spells before going on to the Arcane University."

A moment of silence passed between them. The light spattering of raindrops began to thicken. "Things were so much simpler back then," she said, breaking the silence. "Now, everyone's distrusting of magic, especially here in Skyrim. I can't get anyone to help me. And then there's the Jarl's wizard," she added with an undignified groan.

"He can't help you?"

"No, he could; but he won't. And he's incredibly crass and hard to speak with." Lynette looked over at him with a frown. "Magic is what I am meant to do. I can _feel_ it. I am meant to be a mage. As bad at it as I am, it's the only thing I'm good at."

"I know how you feel," Anoriath said. "I've been a hunter, have been all my life. From the time I picked up a bow and drew my first arrow, I knew it was what I was supposed to do."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore," Lynette said.

They fell quiet again. The rain was really beginning to pick up. Lynette wasn't sure if she should stay in it and let the foul weather compliment her dour mood, or quit wallowing in her sorrows and get inside the shop. She opted to stay as the wood elf stood and bowed to her.

"I'm sorry to leave you without answers, but this weather seems to be impatient and won't wait any longer." He gave her a genuinely warm smile. "I would get under a roof if I were you, less you get drenched by the storm."

"Let it come," Lynette said.

The bosmer left in a hurry as the rain continued to pick up, now falling in fat droplets and darkening the stone street before her. The few citizens of Whiterun still caught out in the rain put their hands over their heads and made their paces a little quicker. Most of them seemed to scramble into the Bannered Mare, probably hoping to get in a few pints before having to walk home in the rain.

A short, high-pitched sound met her ears. It was faint. Lynette would have thought she was imagining things if she hadn't heard it again. What was that?

She turned and looked up the stairs. A dark figure in robes casually strolled down the steps, whistling. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when she realized who it was.

"Farengar?"

He stopped four steps from her and looked down, the tune dying on his lips. "Oh, you. Hello. Excuse me."

Lynette stood and moved out of his way and he continued forward, whistling the peppy tune. She watched him waltz through the empty market and past the well in the center as though it were a grand fine day. What in Oblivion was going on?

She watched him enter Arcadia's Cauldron. Before she knew what she was doing, she was halfway across the path to the door. She opened it slowly and peeked in.

"Farengar, what a surprise!"

"It is a pleasure to see you, my dearest Arcadia."

_Dearest Arcadia…?_ What was going on? He _never_ visited the shop within the week she had been there, and not once had Arcadia said anything about the wizard, other than how attractive he was.

"You look rather pale," she said, concern in her voice. "Could be ataxia." She rounded the counter and approached him. "It's quite a problem back home in Cyrodiil." When Arcadia spotted Lynette peering through the crack in the door behind the wizard, Lynette opened the door fully and pretended to have just walked in.

Farengar took Arcadia's thin, boney hands in his and dropped to one knee.

"My dearest, lovely Arcadia… You've lived here for many years, and I have foolishly ignored your existence, until now."

"Oh, uh… Thank you, Farengar," she said, looking nervously from the wizard to Lynette, and back to the wizard again.

"Arcadia, my love, will you give me your hand in marriage, and have Mara smile on us this night?"

Lynette gasped. "Arcadia, you didn't…"

The older woman blushed a deep red and looked away in shame.

"Arcadia, please tell me you didn't use a love elixir on him!"

"I just… I only wanted –"

"—Please say yes, and make me the happiest man in Tamriel," Farengar continued, oblivious to their conversation.

"Farengar, I _want_ to, but—"

"—I want to have children with you. Please say you're not too old bare my children."

"Arcadia!" Lynette cried.

The woman jerked away from his hands and shook her head, hugging herself. "I didn't think it would effect him like this, honest!"

"We should speak privately," Lynette said as she stormed past Farengar and grabbed Arcadia's arm. She was about to lead her to the back room when Farengar grabbed her and spun her around to face him. Lynette had to crane her neck to look up at him.

"Tell me you will speak with her, convince her that this marriage will succeed."

Lynette's fight or flight instinct flicked on in the back of her mind as his grip tightened uncomfortably. He stared at her with hazel eyes licked with fire.

"I-I'll talk to her," Lynette stammered.

"Wonderful." He looked to Arcadia. "I await your word, my dearest lovely," he said, and released Lynette from his grip.

Lynette was many things, but ignorant was not one of them. She had seen the effects of love elixirs before, working at her mother's shop. It _never_ ended well.

Once they were in the back room and the doors were closed, Lynette began to pace.

"I can't believe you would do this, Arcadia. I look up to you as my elder!"

"I didn't see the harm in a little love elixir," she said, still blushing red. "I only wanted to have him like me a little, not _marry_ me…"

Lynette groaned in frustration. "This is terrible. Do you know what a love elixir can make people do? It can make them kill. I've seen it. I understand the dangers."

"Now, let's just calm yourself," Arcadia warned, glaring. "Don't put this on me. It isn't that bad. I've run this shop for eighteen years and I have never seen a love elixir cause someone to _kill_ anyone."

Lynette stopped pacing for a moment. "How long until it wears off?"

"It shouldn't last too long. The potency is very weak."

Farengar pounded on the door. "What you saying in there? Bring me my Arcadia!"

Lynette was flooded with fear. _Oh, no… It's begun. He's already becoming aggressive… _She tiptoed to the door and slid the lock into place. Farengar pounded on the doors again, this time harder.

"Arcadia, we need to leave _now_."

"But if I could just _talk_ to him, I'm sure he'll calm down," she said, but Lynette was already pulling on her arm.

"Listen, he won't calm down. Eventually, he will force himself upon you no matter how hard you fight, and then he will start saying that if he can't have you, no one will, and will try to take your life. Listen to me Arcadia! This has happened before!"

Lynette wasn't sure if it was because of what she'd said, or the truth in her wide, blue eyes, but the woman nodded and let herself be pulled out the door.

As they ran from the shop and into the downpour of rain, the sounds of Farengar's angry cries followed them.


	4. The Proposition

Chapter Four  
The Proposition

Lynette ran straight forward, Arcadia in tow. She made a quick left behind a small shack and brought the woman with her to crouch down behind the barrels on the side.

"I don't understand why we can't speak with him –"

"—Trust me, it won't work," Lynette interrupted. "No one can think straight under the effects of a love elixir."

Both women jumped at the sound of the back doors slamming open. "Ar-ca-di-_a_!" Farengar's voice rose in anger with every syllable he pronounced. There was a moment of silence, and then chilling laughter. "I see you… You can't hide from me."

_A detect life spell_, Lynette realized in horror. Thunder rumbled above them. Rain patted against her head and shoulders.

"We're going to have to stall him," she said quietly, her dark hair matted to the sides of her face. "I'll try to get to a guard."

"There's a potion that will cancel the effects," Arcadia said. "If you can get inside to my potion book under the counter and find the page, you can make a batch of it and bring it out to him."

Lynette cursed quietly. Why hadn't she mentioned there was a potion to cancel the effects _before_ they ran out of the store like idiots?

Farengar rounded the corner just as the two stood up. Lynette lost all speech when she saw the grim look on his face, but Arcadia was quick to interject.

"Farengar, you ruined the surprise!"

"What surprise?" He moved toward her and pushed Lynette out of his way. She stumbled back, aghast. "Were you trying to run from me?" Farengar asked.

"No, no… Not at all. We were going to jump out and surprise you!"

Farengar took her hands in his and leaned in for a quick kiss. "My love, I detest surprises. They make me nervous. Do not ever do that again."

"I'm sorry, my…dear." Arcadia laughed, her hair and dress soaked. "It's just something we do in Cyrodiil."

Lynette took the opportunity to sneak behind the wizard and tiptoe toward the back doors of the shop. His voice cut through her concentration and sent a chill down her spine.

"Where are you going?"

Lynette turned, shoulders clenched, wracking her brain for an answer to his question. "I, uh… I was just heading inside to…set out some goblets of wine. To celebrate."

Farengar turned sharply to Arcadia and pulled her close. "So you'll say yes? You will marry me?"

"…Yes," Arcadia said, then with a laugh, added, "Yes, I'll marry you!"

Lynette wasn't sure if the old woman was acting or if she truly was enjoying this now.

"Come, let us get out of the rain," he said, planting a kiss on her graying brow. "You," he said to Lynette, "Hurry up and bring us our wine. We will celebrate through the night!"

. . .

. . .

Lynette's mood dropped lower and lower as the hour wore on. Farengar was spewing out Nord poetry like a bubbling fountain, and Arcadia's high-pitched giggling was getting on Lynette's nerves. She had been sitting at the table, turning page after page in Arcadia's big, leather bound book, trying to find the potion she had been talking about. What made the task so difficult was half the recipes weren't even labeled, and there was no order to any of it. Some of them were carefully printed on one page, while others were scribbled quickly, with footnotes all along the sides.

"Here's another one, not labeled," Lynette said over the laughter and giggling. "Blue mountain flower and spider's egg."

"Ooh, no, that's not it," Arcadia replied. She was leaning against the counter with Farengar before her. "What were you saying about the sky, my love?"

Farengar smiled mischievously and ran a finger down the side of her face. "The very night sky pales in comparison to your wrinkled countenance."

Arcadia's hand fluttered to her face with a frown. "My wrinkled…?"

"Every crease is a story to be told of your beauty," he continued, mesmerized.

_Oh, by the Divines_, Lynette thought, her jaws clenched. She flipped to the next page, and the next. Part of her was off elsewhere, greatly annoyed by the way Arcadia was acting to the situation. Love spells and elixirs were nothing to be taken lightly, but this woman was thoroughly taking advantage of the situation. _At least Farengar's acting like a gentleman and not rampaging through the streets…_

"Here's anther one," Lynette called out. "Falmer ear…and fly amanita."

"Oh goodness, that is definitely not the right one," Arcadia replied, followed by another giggle.

"What about… Oh, here. It's labeled." Lynette sighed. At least she found it. She made her way to the displays on the counter tops and began searching for the ingredients she would need.

"What do you have her doing?" Farengar asked. "She's taking your attention away from me. I want your eyes on me only."

"Sorry, my love. I will only look at you now," the old woman said.

_I hope for his sake he remembers nothing of this._ Lynette grabbed some canis root, a bowl of bone meal, and a chicken egg, and made her way over to the alchemy table.

"No flower petal can match the softness of your flesh; no berry could ever be as sweet as your divine lips…"

"Oh, please, go on!"

Lynette found the mortar and pestle and began to work, grinding the canis root into a fine power and mixing it with the bone meal.

"I wish only to be able to kiss your mouth, so like a dark red rose; so soft, so fragile…"

"Oh, Farengar, how you make me blush!"

Once the canis root and the bone meal were mixed finely, she cracked the chicken egg on the side of the table and plopped its contents into the bowl. She blended the mixture until it was smooth, adding a little wine to thin it out, and once it was finished, she poured it into a goblet and brought it over to the wizard, whom was leaning against Arcadia, their eyes locked on each other.

Lynette cleared her throat. Arcadia pulled away with a soft intake of breath and looked nervously at her assistant. "Oh, yes. Thank you." She accepted the goblet and handed it to Farengar with a sad smile. "My love, let us drink to many long years ahead."

"And may we always be together," he added, accepting the drink.

He drank deeply. The effect was almost instant. The goblet fell from Farengar's hand and shattered on the wooden floor. He backed away from Arcadia unsteadily, his hand still raised. His strong features were twisted in a look of utter disbelief.

"You…" His hand lowered to chest-level and he pointed at Arcadia. "You…!"

"I…I'm sorry," Arcadia said. She stood rigid, her arms wrapped around her midsection.

Farengar continued backing up, fortunately missing the fire pit in the center by a few steps. His face turned a pale green, and then he doubled over on the floor and began to retch and vomit. Lynette hovered near by, unsure of what to do. She looked to Arcadia for guidance, but the woman seemed to be just as lost as she.

"Are you sure that potion was safe?" Lynette asked.

"There may be side affects..." Arcadia said. "I haven't perfected it yet."

"_You!_" Farengar shouted in between bouts of gagging. When the vomiting seemed to cease, he got unsteadily to his feet and glared daggers at the Imperial. "The Jarl will hear of this," he growled, breathing hard. "You will not get away with this."

"I'm very sorry," Arcadia said. "I didn't know it would happen like this, I honestly didn't."

"Do not speak to me," he said, turning toward the door. "Do not _ever_ speak to me…"

Lynette move out of his path and watched him leave, unaware that she was holding her breath. She let it out slowly as the doors closed behind him.

. . .

. . .

The dark, smoky storm clouds from the night before were now gone, but the smell of rain still clung sweetly to the morning air. People went on about their day, occasionally stopping to eye the stands and make small chat with the local farmers. Though, everything seemed normal and at ease, the events of last night were on the tips of the gossipers' tongues.

The door to Arcadia's Cauldron opened. Lynette straightened from her slouched position at the counter and smiled as a man in iron armor and a horned helm entered the shop.

"Good morning. Is there anything I can help you with?"

The man looked around the store, then back to Lynette with confusion. "Is Arcadia not here?" His accent was deep and rugged.

"She's at Dragonsreach giving a formal apology."

"Strange. I never figured her to be a trouble-maker."

Lynette smirked. "Love will do funny things to the mind."

"So will three too many pints," the man said, bringing a hand to the side of his helm.

"Ah, let me guess – you need a vial of something to perk you up?"

"Yes." The man pulled off his horned helm and pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes with a pained expression. "Perhaps two vials, if you have it."

Lynette ducked beneath the counter and reached for two small green vials in the back. She placed them on the counter and stepped back, folding her fingers together neatly. "Sixty-four gold please."

The man reached for his coin purse and began counting out the amount. He stopped and looked up. "I only have enough for one."

"Alright then." Lynette moved one of the vials to the side. "Thirty-two gold."

"I spent nearly everysing I had on drinks last night." He handed over the gold, snatched the vial up, and downed it in one big gulp. "How long does it take to work?" he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Just a minute or two." Lynette looked the man over. There was a question pushing on her in the back of her mind – she just had to ask. "May I ask why you're always in that armor?"

"Because the security in Whiterun is terrible," he said. "_Shameful_ is what it is."

"You expect an attack?"

"You can never be too careful. There are threats all around us." He placed his helm back on with renewed vigor. "Wolves, frost trolls, bandits…even magic. Zhere is no telling what could happen." He gripped the handle of his giant steel battle axe that poked out just over his shoulder and said grimly, "I am prepared for _anysing_."

The door to the shop opened, and Arcadia entered with her head down. She met the gaze of the man and gave a fleeting smile. "Sinmir, how are you?"

"I am feeling much better," he said, nodding. He moved past her and left with quick goodbye.

Arcadia walked around the fire pit and to the counter with a weathered look to her face. "I'm glad that's over with."

"How did it go?" Lynette asked.

"Well, I apologized. They fined me five hundred gold for disturbing the peace." She made her way over to the chair at the end of the counter by a big cupboard and sat. "I was so embarrassed. I couldn't look anyone in the eye when I walked back."

Arcadia fell silent. Lynette joined her in quiet contemplation, bending over to lean on the countertop on her elbows. "You know… I was once under the influence of a love spell."

The older woman looked up, surprised. "You were?"

Lynette nodded. "I was. There was a boy back home. Ralius. He used to give me these looks all the time, stare at me." She moved a lock of hair behind her ear and sighed. "I don't know where he got the spell from, or who, but it was on a scroll. He came into the shop one day when my mother was out and used the scroll on me. Next thing I knew, I was crawling over the counter to get to him."

Arcadia leaned forward in her chair, concern lacing her features. "Oh my goodness… What happened?"

"I was overcome with this powerful need, this yearning. My thoughts left, and all I could feel was emotion for him. I tried to force myself onto him when my mother came back. It took all her might to keep me from getting to him." A chill ran down her spine as the memory came back full force. "I tried to fight her. I cast a flame spell at her, but Ralius pulled my arm away before I could hurt her. She all but shoved one of her potions down my throat to bring me back out of it."

"I'm so sorry, Lynette."

Lynette shrugged. "Magic is a powerful thing."

The two were silent for a moment before Arcadia stood and stretched, her hands on her back. "I was thinking you could stay in for the morning and help me dust the shelves. Would you feel comfortable gathering ingredients later?"

"All right."

"Oh! I nearly forgot." Arcadia stood. "Wait right there."

Lynette watched the woman make her way across the room to a door near the entrance. She opened the door and went up the stairs. When she came back down, she had a small pouch in her hand.

"Here, your payment for the week." She smiled at Lynette. "You've more than earned it."

"Thank you." Lynette accepted the pouch and felt her heart speed up. Finally, she had more than ten septims to her name! She opened a satchel attached to her side and slipped the pouch inside. She couldn't wait to count it out later.

The morning wore on. Lynette helped Arcadia dust down all the shelves and wipe down every bottle and vial. Things were restocked and placed neatly around the store in a decorative fashion. Once finished, Lynette went upstairs to her bed, which was merely a pile of linens and a blanket on the floor at the end of the hall, and sat down to begin counting her gold.

"One hundred and forty," she breathed, brushing a thumb over a rather worn down gold piece. She had enough to leave, if she so wished. Where could she go? Not back home – she was much too ashamed to do that. _Should I stay_, she wondered? There seemed to be more opportunity in Skyrim, though not the kind of opportunity she wanted. What she wanted was to practice magic, more than anything in all of Tamriel. _Perhaps if I save up enough, I could ask Farengar if I could pay him for some lessons._

_Sure_, the cynical side of her said. _And horses can fly and dreams _do_ come true…_

Lynette put all the coins back in her satchel and grabbed the flower basket by her bed. She left the Cauldron with a short goodbye and headed over to Belethor's General Goods. There was something she needed to buy before going out into the surrounding woods and hills.

"Welcome to Belethor's General Goods. Welcome, indeed!"

"Hello." Lynette closed the door behind her and walked up to the counter. "You wouldn't happen to have any blades for sale, would you?"

"Absolutely! I've got daggers, swords, axes, and maces. Anything to suit your need."

Lynette tried to picture herself swinging a giant warhammer and falling on her hind end. "A dagger would do fine."

Belethor ducked behind the counter and returned with a rather dull-looking iron dagger. "There you are. Only been used once!"

_I suppose it will have to do_. Lynette pulled her satchel around and began sifting through the coins. "How much?"

"Thirty two gold."

"Thirty two gold, for that?" Her jaw dropped. "It's not even sharp!"

"Hey, the price of one's own protection is priceless," Belethor said. He frowned, tapping the side of his thumb on the counter. "I'll go as low as thirty, but no lower."

Lynette grumbled, but counted out thirty gold nevertheless and handed it over to him. She took the blade and held it in her hands as though it were a dead rat. "Do you have something I could holster it in?"

"Thaaat'll be an extra twenty gold," Belethor said.

She looked down at the old dagger and back up at Belethor. "Nevermind. I'm sure my boot will do fine…"

Lynette left the store and made an immediate left, down the road toward the main gates. She slowly twirled the dagger in her hand, examining a chip in the blade near the tip. She wondered whom might have owned the weapon before her, and what they could have been doing to chip it – or what they might have fought. She placed her thumb along the side, not too hard, and slid it down the edge. It didn't even split the skin.

_Well, it is pointy_, she thought.

A tan-skinned woman caught her eye to her left. Lynette stopped and watched the woman, sitting at what looked like a wheel, holding a long, steel sword over it. Sparks flew off it like glittering stars. Lynette wondered how much it would cost to sharpen her dagger.

_What am I thinking? I'm a mage! This is just a… _She looked down at the weapon. _…a precautionary measure. I probably won't ever have to use it._

The main gates spread open. Lynette looked up, and her heart jumped. In walked Farengar, reading over a parchment he held in both hands. When he looked up and met her gaze, his expression instantly soured.

_Now is my chance_, she thought. _Now or never!_

As Lynette opened her mouth to greet him, Farengar flung his hand up in front of her face. "Do not speak to me." He started walking forward again with a quicker stride.

"Wait, please," Lynette begged, tucking the dagger in her belt. She ran up to his side and stayed at his pace. "Please, let me apologize for what happened last night –"

"—I do not wish to hear it. All the apologies in the world cannot make up for what happened."

"I tried to save you," she countered.

"You weren't exactly trying to _stop_ me."

"I couldn't! You were under the effects of a love potion – when someone is like that, they can't think straight and could become dangerous. I _couldn't_ interfere with you, or you could have killed me!"

Farengar stopped right in front of a tall building – a home for sale, from what Lynette knew – and balled his fists at his sides. The parchment in his left hand crinkled. "I was going to _marry_ that woman. I wanted to have her children. I don't expect you to understand just how angry I am, but I _do_ expect you to leave me be." He started up his long strides again.

"I _do_ understand, I do." Lynette was just about jogging to keep up with him now. "And if there is anything I can do for you, _anything_ at all, you will let me know, won't you?"

"Yes, as I just said – _leave me be_."

"Please, listen to me," she said. "Let me make it up to you. I'll do anything you ask of me!"

They rushed into the market area. Farengar pushed the beggar Brenuin out of his way and kept walking. Brenuin tumbled back and caught himself on the fruit stall counter.

"I have a proposition to make, if you would listen."

"You expect me to listen after all that happened?"

"I don't expect you to," Lynette said, "but I'd like you to. Please. From one mage to another, I'm asking you."

"Mage?" Farengar sneered. "You are barely a hedge-wizard."

Lynette stopped, gaping. His insult hit her heart with the force of a hammer. She ran back up to his side as he started up the stone steps to the Wind District.

"I don't see what it is that _you_ do that's so great," she said, venom in her voice. "Sit around your office, leaning on your desk, wasting away all that magical potential when you could be reclaiming it again by taking me on as your apprentice!"

"You have no right to talk about what I do," he said, his tone deepening. "I research day and night. I protect Whiterun from magical dangers."

"But I could _help_ you. I'll help you with your research –"

"—I require _no_ help from you—"

"—Then teach me to defend Whiterun so you can devote yourself wholly to your research!"

They were past the dying tree that dominated the center of the district and were heading for the next sets of stone steps that lead up to Dragonsreach.

"Please, stop and talk with me!"

Farengar halted suddenly. Lynette nearly tripped from trying to stop herself in mid-step.

His chest rose and fell sharply. "If I listen to you, will you leave me alone?"

"I promise, I will. Just hear me."

"All right." He took the parchment, now crumpled at the side, and carefully folded it in half. He then crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her, towering over her like a statue. "Go on."

Lynette opened her mouth. The words died on the tip of her tongue as her mind went blank. Farengar arched a brow at her as she desperately searched for the right words to say.

"You see, um… All I am asking is that you take me on as your apprentice. I-I won't get in your way, I swear it. I've made Skyrim my home now. I will do anything to defend it, and I am ready to learn everything I can about how to do that." She took a deep breath and continued, softer. "All I ask is for but an hour of your time, once a day, once a week – however you would like to do it. I am willing to pay you. And I will help you with your research – two minds are better than one, I say."

The wizard stood before her for the longest time, looking her over, sizing her up. Beads of sweat rolled down Lynette's back. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest, like a wild raven trapped in a silver cage. She swallowed hard, and waited.

"Let me ask you this," Farengar finally spoke. "How far are you willing to travel for me?"

"Anywhere," she answered. "You tell me where; I'll be there."

He shifted his weight to the other foot and unfolded his arms. "Give me some time to think about this. Three days."

Lynette clasped her hands together and nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes – absolutely!"

Farengar frowned. "I am not promising anything."

"No, no – of course not." She was grinning.

"All right then." He lowered his head just enough so that shadows consumed his eyes. "You will leave me be now?"

"Oh yes, right away," Lynette answered, stepping away with a bow. "Thank you, thank you so much!" She backed into the decorative wooden railing on the short bridge that lead over the stream of water behind her and caught herself from falling. When she looked back up at the wizard, embarrassed, she could have _sworn_ she saw something of a smirk under that hood before he turned and made his way up the steps.

* * *

_(A/N: Joy! Another chapter done. I can't believe it. I want to give a very warm, very deep thank you to everyone following this fanfic, and to my reviewers especially. It was your guys' kind words that inspired me and renewed my interest in writing. My muse would like to thank you all, as well. She is eating up the attention!)_


	5. Prove Your Worth

Chapter Five  
Prove Your Worth

The next three days couldn't pass by any faster for Lynette. She worked hard, keeping herself busy around the shop and venturing out further around Whiterun for ingredients. She didn't encounter any more wolves, but then again she didn't dare go out too far. The last few nights she had dreamed terrible dreams of being attacked by packs of the beasts, all of them snarling and baring their teeth, snapping at her limbs, chasing her until she fell… And then she would wake, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her nightgown clinging to her back.

She was sweeping the floors of the shop when the courier came knocking on the shop door on the third day. She answered with a grin that she simply could not contain.

"Hello, are you Miss Lynette?"

"Yes, I am!"

The courier fingered through the letters in his hand and pulled one out. "This just came for you, from the Jarl's court wizard."

Her grin broadened. She took the letter, handed the man a gold piece, and bid him a wonderful day. She turned once the door was shut and eagerly broke the seal, her fingers trembling as she unfolded the letter. It read:

_ Lynette,_

_ After careful consideration of our earlier discussion, I have decided against your proposal. I simply do not have the time, energy, or patience to take on an apprentice at this time. Though, your offer was quite tempting, I must decline. Please, do not come see me about this. My decision is final._

_Farengar Secret-Fire_

Lynette stood frozen for well over a minute. She read the letter again, her expression of joy now one of disbelief, and reread it once more. Arcadia walked into the room from the back and stopped when she saw her face.

"Lynette…is everything all right?"

"Yes…" Lynette looked up and forced a smile. "Everything is fine – do you think I could take a small break for a little while?"

"Of course," the woman said. "It is lunchtime, after all. Why not have a bite to eat at the Bannered Mare?"

"Wonderful idea," Lynette murmured, stuffing the letter into her pocket. "I'll bring you back something."

"Oh, thank you dear! That's awfully sweet of you."

Lynette left and stormed through the market, past the Bannered Mare, headed straight for the Jarl's keep. Her mind raced. She was angry. How could he get her hopes up like that and then crush them? He couldn't even tell her to her face! The _nerve_…

She made it up the steps, short of breath, and stopped in front of the guard at the doors.

"I'd like to speak with Farengar Secret-Fire, please."

"What business do you have with him?"

"A proposition."

She couldn't see his face through the steel plate mask on his helm, but she could hear the caution in his voice. "Farengar doesn't wish to be bothered at the moment."

"Please? It's important that I speak with him right away."

After a moment of consideration, the guard moved. "Very well." He opened the doors and escorted her through the dining hall and into Farengar's office.

The wizard looked from the book on his desk and cursed under his breath. "You again."

The guard stopped. "Do you want me to remove her?"

"No, just…go. I'll handle it."

Lynette put her hands on her hips and waited until the guard was out of ear-shot to speak. "How could you just say no like that?"

"I do not have the time for this."

"I'm willing to study at home. I won't waste your time, I swear on it." She chanced a step closer to his desk. "Listen, just give me one hour of your time a week, and in exchange, I will do whatever it is you ask of me. I'll go anywhere you wish me to go. I will do anything for you. You have my word."

Farengar stood from his chair and brought his fingers to his temples. "You do not take no for an answer, do you?"

Lynette shook her head.

After a moment of thought, Farengar reached into the end table by the desk and took out three long, pink stones, one bigger than the other two, and placed them all on the desk. He then disappeared into the room in the far corner and returned with a thick book baring a hard, purple cover. He waved to the glittering stones on the desk. "Do you know what these are?"

"Soul gems," Lynette said, though, she wasn't entirely sure.

"Correct. They're soul gems, used in enchanting and to recharge the energy in magical weapons. I want you to take this tome, learn the spell to capture a soul, and fill these three soul stones." He handed her the book. "If you can do that, I will teach you what I know."

Lynette gripped the book happily. "You give me your word, then?"

"I give you my word," he said.

"All right," she said. "I'll get on this right away!"

She left feeling a sense of satisfaction unlike no other feeling, forgetting completely about the lunch she was supposed to bring Arcadia from the Bannered Mare.

. . .

. . .

Lynette went out to gather flowers for the remainder of the day. Pickings were slim, now that she had covered most of the roads and nearby fields. She did not return until her basket was full, however, and she gathered ingredients with fervor, because back at the shop, waiting for her in a swaddle of bed linens, calling to her, was the tome Farengar gave her to study. It sent visions to her, visions of magic, of sitting on a bed – an _actual_ bed she could call her own – surrounded by various tomes and scrolls; of attending classes at the college with other students of like-mind, practicing with them during down time, and chatting with her instructors over tea about her amazing progress.

She hurried into the hold and toward Arcadia's Cauldron at a half-jog. Once inside the shop, she handed over the basket and went upstairs to her bed. The tome seemed to hum in her hands when she picked it up.

The next few hours were spent reading through the thick book as fast as she could. The sun was setting as she finished the last page, her right hand in a fist before her, mouth moving along with the words in the tome. She looked at her fist and squeezed it, summoning the spell to her. Nothing happened. She sat up straighter, relaxed her muscles and closed her eyes. Her focus was put fully into the thought of making the spell work. When she opened her eyes, there was still nothing. Not even a spark.

A small twinge of frustration tugged at her temper, but she fought it back. _Perhaps I need something to focus on, _she thought.

Beside her was a small knapsack of what little belongings she possessed. She parted the bag and reached into it. Her fingers brushed the comb at the bottom, one of a few necessities she purchased a few days before from Belethor; she grabbed it and pulled it out. It would have to do.

She placed the metal comb on the floorboards and sat cross-legged before it. With her hand balled into a fist again, she focused all thought on bringing the spell to her hand and shot her fingers out at the comb. Nothing. Aggravated, she snatched the comb up and squeezed it, trying to picture the spell transferring to the comb through her hand. She wasn't getting anywhere with this.

_What am I doing wrong? I read the entire book – I understand how Soul Trap works. Why can't I cast it?!_

In a small fit, Lynette sent the comb flying against the wall. It hit the wood with a thin, metallic _tink_ and fell to the floor. She grabbed her hair in handfuls and groaned. What was she doing wrong? Then a thought hit her.

Lynette gathered herself and hurried downstairs. Arcadia was locking the shop with her key. The woman smiled at Lynette. "Need to leave?"

"Yes, I'll be right back. I won't be gone long."

Arcadia let her through the door. Lynette stepped out and heard the lock click behind her as she made her way around the fountain and past empty market stalls. She sped up the stairs, skipping every other step, and when her legs began to burn at the next set she took each one with a slight pant. Why did Dragonsreach have to be so high up?

She made it to the top and took a second to recover from the climb before going across the bridge to the tall, wooden doors. The guard posted there was not the same one as before – this one was shorter, wider, and had a rounder figure.

"What is your business here?"

"I am here to see Farengar Secret-Fire," she said.

"It's late," the guard said. "I don't think he'll want to be bothered by the likes of you."

Lynette's jaw clinched. "Well, um, I'm his student, you see… And he's expecting me."

There was a delay before the guard spoke again. "All right, then. Don't go causing any trouble, now."

This time, the guard merely opened the doors for her and let her show herself in. _The weight of being a "student" must mean something,_ she thought. A wicked grin spread across her face at the possibilities.

She tiptoed down the hall, not wishing to be noticed. She felt like an intruder of some sort, breaking into the Jarl's keep to steal all his gold and jewels. An old woman with a broom watched her pass with mistrust in her gray eyes.

Lynette made it up the steps and stopped in the doorway to Farengar's office. He was leaned over an enchanting table, a slight glow emanating from it. Lynette didn't know how she should interrupt him, so she stepped inside and simply waited until he was finished. When he turned, he jumped at the sight of her and swore loudly.

"What are you doing here?" He leaned over slightly, grasping at his chest. "Do not sneak up on me like that!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you…"

Farengar straightened his robes and crossed his arms. "What do you want?"

"I need your help." Lynette looked down in shame, folding her fingers behind her back. "I can't…cast the spell."

"What do you mean, you can't cast the spell? I gave you the tome to learn how to do it."

"I mean I can't…" Lynette shrugged. "I just can't do it. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

The wizard brought his finger and thumb to his forehead and sighed. Lynette could hear his foot tapping beneath his robes. "All right. What spells do you know?"

"I can cast a flame spell."

Farengar went up to the tall board featuring a map of Skyrim and moved it all the way back against the wall, leaving a wide open space to move around in. "Show me, then," he said, charging a ball of deep violet energy in his fist. He shot the spell at the floor in the middle of the open space. The spell expanded into a great purple sphere, and from inside of it came a spectral blue wolf. Lynette's eyes shimmered with excitement.

"That's amazing!" she cried.

"Yes, I know. Now attack it."

Lynette bit her bottom lip. "I can't…"

Farengar threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Why can't you?"

"I can only do it when I'm being attacked. I don't know why, I just can't do it any other way."

The wizard sighed. "Fine then." He flicked his wrist at her, and the wolf growled and leapt forward. Lynette screamed and brought her hands up. Flames sputtered and spat out of her palms erratically, but hit the wolf dead on. The beast disappeared in a whimper.

"That…was terrible," Farengar finally said. "I have never witnessed such a poor display of the craft…"

Lynette's brows dipped inward and her hands flew to her hips. "I tried, all right? I told you I need help. Now are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand around and criticize me all night?"

Farengar walked over to the chair at his desk and pulled it to the middle of the open area. "Sit," he commanded. Lynette obeyed, still stung from his words.

"What are you going to do?"

"I think the problem is, you don't know how to touch your magicka."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Just relax. Sit still. And close your eyes."

Lynette did as she was told and sat back against the chair. She closed her eyes, palms flat on her lap, and waited for his instructions.

"I want you to shut out everything," he said. "Don't listen to anything. Shut out the sound of the guards out there walking in their heavy boots. Shut out the sound of the maids sweeping. Focus only on my voice. Do you understand?"

Lynette nodded. The tension in her muscles began to relax. One by one, she shut every sound out.

"Clear your mind of all thought," Farengar continued. "Whenever you realize you are drifting into thought, interrupt it, and come back to me, to the sound of my voice."

She felt the brush of his robes at her feet as he walked by, bringing her out of her trance, but she shut it out, as he told her to do, and waited to hear only his words.

"Now, if you are relaxed enough, if you are focused enough, you will feel an energy inside of you," he went on. "It will feel light and soft, like a warm breeze. Sometimes I see it as a color; a blue haze."

Lynette focused. Inside of herself, she wandered in darkness. There was no warm breeze; no blue haze.

"I don't…see it," she said. "I don't feel it."

Farengar took her hand and positioned it in front of herself, palm facing away from her. He placed his own hand, warm and strong, against hers and fell quiet.

"I will guide you," he said. "Remember to stay still. Shut everything else out, and open your mind. Open yourself to me."

Lynette felt the blood rush to her ears and face. She was blushing. She tried to shut out the strange shyness that warmed her cheeks, ignore all sounds and feelings, and opened herself to him, as he commanded.

Inside that darkness, that nothingness, she felt a light pull. A gentle tug. It was strong, powerful, but tender.

"Is that…you?" she asked. Her voice sounded small, like a child's.

"Yes. Follow me. Let me take you."

Lynette allowed herself to be pulled along the darkness. Suddenly, she felt the pull of a warm energy, _her_ energy, and it directed her to it with light caresses. It was blue, as he had said, and soft and light, like a feather.

"That's…my magicka?" she breathed in awe.

"Yes," Farengar said, bringing his voice down to a softer, smokier tone. "That's your magicka. I want you to stay with it – remember to push everything else out. Focus on your magicka. Let it envelope you. Let it take you."

Lynette opened herself to her magicka and let it wash over her like a gentle wave, filling her mind, filling her heart, vibrating in the very tips of her fingers and toes. It was powerful, and yet so calm. Lynette was beginning to see she had been going about magic all wrong.

"I'm going to let go," Farengar warned. "I want you to keep hold of your magicka. Don't force it, just let it be, and let it take you."

His hand came away from hers, leaving a cool, lonely draft of air in its wake.

"Now," he said, "I want you do call your flame spell to your hand and fire it."

Lynette focused on fire, hot and sharp. She felt it pulse twice in her palm, and then it roared from her hand. When she opened her eyes, Farengar was standing before her with a simple ward up to reflect her spell.

"I did it," she said, and then screamed happily, "I DID IT!"

"That you did," Farengar said, folding his arms. "You did surprisingly well."

"Thank you so much!" Lynette jumped up from the chair, grinning. She came at him in a wide embrace before she could think better of it.

Farengar ceased up like a stiff board before pushing her away in disgust. "Do not touch me. I despise being touched."

"I'm sorry, I just – I don't know, I'm so incredibly happy!"

"Good," he said. "Go be happy elsewhere. I have very important work to be doing; work that you interrupted."

"All right. I'm sorry I interrupted you." Lynette walked around the chair and to the doorway, stopping to give him one last glance. "I really do appreciate what you did for me. No one else have ever helped me like that."

Farengar waved a hand at her to leave. "Go. Study. And do not come back to bother me until you've filled those three soul gems."

Lynette left the keep feeling empowered and a little overwhelmed. Now that she had reached out and touched her magicka, she could feel it there in the back of her mind, resting comfortably, waiting for her to call on it. So, _this_ was what it meant to be a mage. This was real magic, real control. Real _power_. Lynette could not deny it; it felt good.

Arcadia let her in when she knocked at the door. She didn't stay and speak with her for very long, instead excusing herself to bed as soon as she was politely able to. Her mind was filled to the brim. She could not stop thinking of her newfound power.

Lynette put on her night gown and crawled into her covers on the hardwood floor. She laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and a curiously uninvited memory rose to the surface of her mind. She held her hand in front of her face and turned it over, recalling how warm and strong his touch had been. She brought her hand to the side of her cheek and sighed. Lynette had the feeling that things were about to get much more complicated between her and the wizard.


	6. Broken

Chapter Six  
Broken

The very next day, Lynette set out to complete her quest: charge three soul gems, and bring a basket of ingredients to Arcadia. There was a nip in there air, so she made sure to pull on an overcoat, which Arcadia was more than willing to part with. She pinned all of her hair back into a neat tail and tugged on her gloves. For lunch later on, she had saved half of a loaf of bread and a bit of dried meat and put it in her satchel. Her dagger was tucked into the side of her boot, and her basket hung in the crook of her arm. She spent part of the morning learning to master her new soul trap spell, and was confident she had it down. She left the hold, humming a light tune to herself.

Just outside the tail end of the hold's defensive walls and to her right, a small group of kahjiits were unloading and setting up tents. Lynette had never seen this before. Were they merchants of some sort?

She approached with a friendly wave. "Hello, there."

"A peaceful greeting to you," one of the kahjiits said. He sat before a pitched tent on a round rug, cross-legged. "Have you come to look at our wares?"

"Are you a merchant of some sort?" Lynette asked, approaching closer.

"I am Rah'men. We offer many things," he said, his accent sly and smooth. A bowl of what appeared to be long, stringy noodles set beside him, steam wisping off the surface of the broth. The kahjiit saw her eyeing his food and gave her what she thought might be a smile. "Would you like to try my noodles? It is wise to travel on a full stomach."

Lynette smiled bashfully. "Could I? That would be wonderful. I haven't had breakfast yet, to tell you the truth."

Rah'men patted on the rug in front of him, gesturing for her to sit. Lynette did so, and took the bowl he offered with a bow of her head. "Thank you kindly." She spooned the noodle soup into her mouth and her eyebrows rose – it was good, _very_ good. "This is fantastic," she said in between bites. "What do you call it?"

"We call them Rah'men noodles. Does this one like my Rah'men noodles?"

"Oh, very much!" She swallowed and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "Excuse my manners, this is just so good. You thought of this yourself?"

"Yes," the kahjiit replied. "It is quick and easy to make. Delicious, no?"

Though, the meal was free of charge, Lynette tipped him five gold and set off through their camp and down toward a small stream, headed north-west. She had never gone this way before, and was intent to venture as far as she had to go to finish her quest.

She went over the stream, using the rocks here and there as stepping stones to cross without getting her boots wet. She headed straight forward toward a group of skinny pines, passing great boulders on her right. A dropped tree lay in her path, old and rotting. She made her way around it and down a small drop-off onto flatter land, but more boulders lay ahead. Further on, she could see in the distance a tiny orange light – a camp fire?

She climbed over rocks and closer to the mysterious fire. Her eyes were not as sharp as they used to be, but she could still make out the shape of tall, languid giants lumbering around the fire. Mammoths grazed not far from them. One had a calf at her heels.

Lynette had never seen a mammoth before – or giants, for that matter. In Cyrodiil, the climate was much too warm for the big, wooly beasts and their masters. She watched them for a good while, squatting behind a rock, and decided then and there that she would have to purchase a nice, leather bound journal from Belethor, if he had one, so that she could keep track of her adventures in Skyrim. She imagined her parents' looks if she told them she had been fifty paces from a mammoth and smiled. _Oh dear, that reminds me… I need to write them a letter. They probably figured me for dead by now, or lost._

Once she had her fill of the sight, she continued on, crawling over great flat rocks and jutting boulders, giving the giants' camp a wide berth. Now past it, she continued westward on grassy land, passing a shady-looking, crumbled stone building on her right. Her mind galloped about from one thing to the next, from memories of home, to Skyrim life, and back again. She had completely forgot to look for flowers and other ingredients. So caught up in her thoughts, she was, that she didn't even notice the carefully synched footfalls behind her.

She could not wait to train with Farengar. Even more interesting was this research he kept saying was so important – what was it he researching, and what made it so imperative that he had no time to train an apprentice? He was always so impatient and gruff, so callous with his words. Lynette wondered if this was because he had been hurt before by people, or simply because he was born an ass. He certainly seemed to know about manners; he just refused to use them.

The snap of a twig brought her out of her wonderings, but before she could turn or do anything, a hand came around, grabbed her fist, and brought it painfully up behind her back and between her shoulder blades. She submitted to the pain with a cry as the other hand of the assailant came around with a dagger and pressed it hard against her throat. Her hand fluttered to the arm, thin but strong.

"Try to run, and you die."

. . .

. . .

"Borlaf, you hungry?"

"I'm starvin'." The man slurped up the rest of his ale and laughed.

"What's so funny?" the first man asked.

"You've been doing all the housework, like a damn woman."

The man called Borlaf, and the Redguard beside him, both burst into roaring laughter.

"Laugh all you will." The Nord brushed his nose with his thumb. "If it weren't for me, we wouldn't be eatin'."

The leader of the group, the one called Borlaf, looked to Lynette with a sloppy grin. He took a big swig of his ale and said, "You hungry, sweetheart?"

Lynette didn't answer. She sat in the corner of the cave on a deer skin, bound by her wrists and ankles and gagged with a dirty cloth. Her eyes were sore and puffy from crying.

"Don't tease the wench," the Redguard said. He seemed to be the eldest of the three, bearing gray in his short, scruffy beard.

"She'll get scraps," Borlaf said, taking another drink.

Lynette had cried straight for the first half hour she had been there, but now she was all cried out and only numbness was left. When she cried, she did so because she thought they meant to kill her. But as time wore on, she began to wonder if they were keeping her alive for a more sinister purpose.

They took everything from her – her satchel of food, her gloves and overcoat, and even the old dagger in her boot, which the leader now picked up from the ground and eyed with a thoughtful expression. "Gonna start keeping a knife in my boot. Tired of gettin' disarmed."

The man at the cooking pots on the other side of the cavernous room, called Thorbjin, if Lynette recalled correctly, spooned a hot, soupy mixture into three bowls and brought them over to Borlaf and the Redguard, Armal. "You can thank me later," Thorbjin said. The dog, whom had been laying near his feet while he cooked, followed him to the other two.

"I'll thank you when you bring us something fit to eat," Borlaf said. "This looks like deer shit."

"Just eat it."

The three ate their meals, feeding the dog bits and pieces of their food, all the while Lynette sat in her corner, hoping her stomach wasn't growling too loudly. She didn't want anything from them. She would not be weak. _I'd rather starve than be fed by them, the mongrels…_

When they were finished, Thorbjin made a bowl for Lynette and brought it over to her. He pulled her gag down to hang at her neck and tried to feed her. She wouldn't budge, and turned her head with every try to avoid the food.

"Come on now, lass. It's free of charge. Eat."

Borlaf watched the exchange curiously; rather, he watched Lynette. He had been eyeing her constantly while he drank, telling her how pretty she was. The looks he gave her unnerved her, and outright terrified her.

When Thorbjin finally gave up, he took the bowl away and left toward the beginning of the cave to take his post, the dog following close behind. Armal, the Redguard, sat against a crate and relaxed, opening another bottle of ale. Borlaf continued to watch Lynette, his elbows resting on his knees, his back to the cave wall.

"What, are you too good for our food, princess?" he asked, his tone snide. "Deer shit not good enough for you, eh?"

Armal took a pouch and emptied a bit of the contents onto a small square of paper. He carefully fingered it, making sure it was just so, before rolling it up into a cigarette. He lit it and inhaled deeply, putting his head back. Borlaf turned his head to him, allowing Lynette to relax a little now that he wasn't looking at her.

"Roll me one of those, would you?"

The Redguard did as he was told. The two smoked quietly together. Lynette watched them, all the while struggling to formulate a plan. The only problem was that all of her plans required "if" scenarios. "If" he were to get up and leave, "if" they were to fall asleep, "if" she could get close to that dagger…

Borlaf seemed to know what she was thinking, as he looked at her and took the dagger in his hand. "Bet you wish you could cut me right now," he teased, bringing the tip of the blade to his throat. He slid it across his skin with a wicked grin. He took another long drink of his ale and stubbed out his cigarette.

Lynette hoped so badly that he would get drunk enough to make a mistake; she prayed to the Divines, to anyone who would listen, _please let him drink himself silly, please…_

The two drank for a while, but to Lynette's disappointment, neither of them seemed drunk yet. The Redguard only sat there, looking tired, and listened as Borlaf poured out one story after the next. He spoke of his incarceration, a group of bandits he used do robberies with, and many tales of various women he'd slept with. The man always had an opinion about something, and it was usually a bad one.

A weariness began to fall over Lynette. How long had she been sitting there, bound and helpless? Was it nighttime yet? She had no idea. All she knew was that her moment to escape would come, and when it did, she had to be ready for it. She inhaled deeply and blinked several times to wake herself up.

Then it finally happened. Armal fell asleep, slouched against his crate. Borlaf continued to ramble on, oblivious to his friend's sate. Now was her chance.

"Excuse me."

"Oh, you can talk after all?" Borlaf said.

"My wrists hurt something awful," Lynette said. "Untie me. I won't try to escape."

Borlaf laughed. "How come I don't trust you?"

"I can't go anywhere. I don't have any weapons. Would you please untie me?"

The Nord watched her for a good moment, thinking it over. "No."

Lynette frowned. The man was smarter than she thought. He was probably one of those alpha male wolves with the sixth sense for danger. Even if she had begged and batted her eyelashes, it probably would only make him more suspicious.

"What do you plan to do with me?" she asked, stalling.

Borlaf snickered. "Better I show you," he said, and stood.

An idea came to her mind – it was risky, but it could work. Lynette turned over on her side as if to struggle away from him, and he came up behind her with a laugh. He grabbed her bound wrists, holding them to his stomach while he came up against her, and Lynette called her magicka to the forefront. Flames burst from her palms, powered by her fear and her fury, and Borlaf screamed and tumbled backward. Lynette cranked her head to the side to make sure he was still in line of fire and let him have it, stopping only when he lay helpless on the ground.

She managed to get herself into a sitting position and scooted her way to his burnt, smoking body, adrenaline taking over. She didn't have much time. The dagger still lay in his other hand – she reached for it now, took it, and began trying to cut through the rope. The damn thing was too dull to do much of anything, so she positioned herself near his thighs where the great, steel axe lay atop him and brought her wrists up to the blade. It sliced easily through the rope and into her skin. She broke free and rubbed her wrists, just as Thorbjin entered with his bow in his hand.

Lynette brought her hands up and covered him in flame at the same time the man notched an arrow and let it loose. It flew through the flame and hit her shoulder, forcing her back onto her hind end, her bound feet flying up in front of her. Pain seared through her shoulder and down her arm. She brought up her free hand, her left one, and called upon her flames again. The man fell to his knees in agony, and then onto his face.

And before Lynette could catch her breath, the Redguard Armal began to stir awake from the commotion.

She could sense her magicka was low now. She waited for him to stir awake fully and stand, looking at his friends in disbelief, then at her, before bringing up her hand for another go. She burnt him to a crisp, extinguishing all the magicka she had left. She didn't realize she was screaming until he dropped, writhing and wiggling like a worm.

She just murdered three men. The thought felt unreal. She half expected them to jump up and attack her again.

The dog rounded the corner, growling. Would the gods ever give her a break?

Lynette screamed as the animal charged for her. She brought up her arms to protect herself, and cried out as teeth sunk into the flesh of her left arm. Her magicka was still low, she had no way to defend herself.

To her right, she spotted the dagger laying discarded on the cave floor. Pain shot up her shoulder as she moved her right arm, but she bit down and did it, exhaling when her fingers brushed over the blade. She grabbed it and brought it to the dog's side. It pierced its skin and sunk into its ribs with a sickening sound, and the dog jumped back in alarm. Injured and afraid, it ran to the other end of the room and cowered there, shaking.

Lynette did not take her eyes off the hound, even as she moved over to the steel axe and used it to free her feet. With her left forearm shredded and bleeding profusely and an arrow jutting from her right shoulder, she managed to get to her feet and held a hand at the dog, ready to engulf him in flames. The animal only seemed to want to be left alone. She made it by him and went deeper through the cave to another area with crates and barrels, finding a rotted wooden door at the end. She made her way out and into the cool evening air.

. . .

. . .

The area outside of the cave was rocky and jagged. A small slope ahead lead the way toward a tall stone structure in the distance, perhaps a fort of some type. Lynette's legs moved forward of their own accord, taking her toward the structure at a slow pace. She was numb, inside and out. The shock of everything was the only thing keeping her from feeling the full brunt of her injuries.

She walked past the rocks and through thick brush, feeling somehow broken inside, as though killing those men had taken her innocence from her and she had no way of getting it back. She came upon a stream bed that passed lazily below a slightly arching stone bridge on her left. A tall man walked along the bridge, humming to himself. He didn't see Lynette until he had crossed.

"Hello, there," he called out to her, both hands around his mouth. He brought a hand over his eyes to shield them from the setting sun. Lynette stopped walking and stood still, holding her left arm to her body and leaning to the side. Blood continued to seep from the ragged wound.

The man must have seen her condition, for when he called out to her again, there was deep concern lacing his voice. "Are you injured?" He stepped down the small hill off the side of the bridge and over the stream. Lynette raised her hand, ready to blast him if he made a wrong move.

"Whoa there, young lady," the man said, faltering in step. He put his hands up to show he meant no harm. "Are you all right? Where did you come from?" He wore normal clothing, and a long iron sword hung at his side.

"I killed someone," Lynette croaked. "They're all dead…"

Suspicion creased the man's brows. "Who's dead?"

"The bandits. They're dead." She blinked away tears that threatened to fall.

"You're injured pretty badly," the man said, his eyes going over the arrow sticking out of her shoulder and her mess of an arm. "Come," he said, waving her closer. "Let's get you to a healer."

Lynette obeyed. She let the man take her by the elbow and lead her up the small hill onto the road.

"My name is Talsgar," the man said. "How lucky for you to chance upon a bard on the road."


	7. Apprenticeship

Chapter Seven  
Apprenticeship

Lynette awoke on a large, wooden slab inside what looked like a temple. The ceiling was of an aged, graying wood. The architecture was simple, but still pleasing to the eye. Wooden columns ran all along the sides of the open room. The floor was of gray stone tiles. In the center, colored stones made up a scene of a bird, soaring through the air. Branching out, the tiles sloped into four decorative pools of crystal clear water.

A woman in brown robes with a yellow hood approached her, smiling.

"You're awake, child."

Lynette slowly sat up. "What happened?"

"A wandering bard brought you here." The woman sat on the edge of the slab by Lynette's feet. "I am Danica. You're in the temple of Kynareth." She rested a hand on Lynette's leg and asked, "How are you feeling, child?"

"I'm…fine," Lynette answered, running her fingers across her left arm. The sleeve of the dress was still torn and caked in dried blood, but the wound beneath was healed and scarred over. "I need to go."

"You lost a lot of blood. You should consider staying the night, at least."

"No, I can't," Lynette moaned, holding a hand to her head. "I need to leave. Arcadia must be worried that I haven't returned."

Danica gave a small frown. "Well, if you are certain you must go, then go. But be careful – eat plenty of meats and greens, and don't do anything strenuous." The woman smiled. "Even magic and the good grace of Kynareth cannot replace the blood you've lost. Just take things easy for a few days, child." She stood and offered her arm to Lynette, which she grabbed a hold of with a thank you. "Try and keep yourself out of trouble next time, aye?" Danica smiled. "Blessings of Kynareth upon you, child."

"Thank you, miss," Lynette said.

She left feeling dazed and off balance. She made it outside into the cold night air, taking it into her lungs as deeply as she could. She made her way over to a bench, one of three that surrounded the great tree in the Wind District, and brought herself carefully down onto the seat. Her thoughts were light, wispy things that escaped her every time she reached for them, and the world was a spinning scene of shapes and dark colors.

When she had gathered herself enough to walk, Lynette made her way to the shop, passing dark and shadowed vendor stalls. Arcadia was up and waiting for her. She wanted an explanation. She wanted to comfort her. All Lynette wanted was to be in her bed. She gave Arcadia a quick explanation, let the woman hug her, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, and excused herself for bed.

Sleep did not come easily that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the faces of the three men she had killed, their flesh raw and smoking, their expressions contorted in pain.

. . .

. . .

The next morning, Lynette rose from her blankets, eyes swollen with sleep. She sat up, her hair a tangled mess. She was still in her bloody ruined dress. Her wrists ached a bit from the bindings that had dug into them, and a dull reminder of her injuries pulsed within her arm and shoulder. She would have to return to Danica in the near future and pay the woman for what she did for her – it was the very least she could do.

She stood and smoothed out her dress. Her skin and hair felt grimy – she would have to gather water for a bath later.

_What am I going to do about the soul gems?_ The thought depressed her. As if the entire passing events were not enough, now she would never be trained to use magic. _Maybe if I go to Farengar, explain what happened…_ She slumped. _No. He would want the three filled soul gems. Damn it all…_

An idea hit her. _Belethor might have some…_

Lynette grabbed her coin purse and left without making her bed.

"Arcadia!"

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll be back shortly," Lynette called.

Arcadia appeared from the back room, a bowl in one hand and a cloth in the other. "Alright. As long as you come back, I suppose."

Lynette was grateful the woman didn't ask much more. She still hadn't talked to her about her possible magic lessons, and she didn't want to until she knew for sure that she would get them.

She left, holding the door open for a customer, and then made her way into Belethor's. She prayed to the Nine he would have the soul gems she so desperately needed.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customer," the shop owner boomed as she entered.

"Good morning."

"Ah…what happened to your clothes? Looks like you got into a fight with a sabre cat."

Lynette closed the door behind her and approached the counter. "Something like that," she said. "I'm looking for soul gems. Small ones."

"You're in luck," he said, and reached onto the shelves behind him. "What are you looking for, common? Lesser? Petty?"

"I don't know. I'd have to see them first."

Belethor gathered the long pink gems and laid them in a row on the counter. They looked a bit different from the three she had. They all seemed to possess a small glow to them.

"Are these filled?"

"What, you don't like?" Belethor crossed his arms. "Well, I think I have a lesser one, unfilled, laying around her somewhere…"

"No, it's fine," Lynette said, hoping she didn't sound as guilty as she felt. At least with soul gems already filled, she wouldn't have to worry about going back out into the wilds around Whiterun. She didn't much enjoy the thought of wolf hunting, much less having to kill it and risk another injury. She was already sporting far more scars on her body than she thought she'd ever have.

There was also the risk of running into more bandits. The thought terrified her. The faces of the men whom had taken her hostage flashed in front of her mind's eye, their skin twisted and scarred, their mouths open in a silent scream –

"How much for the smallest?"

"One hundred and ten septims."

Lynette's jaw dropped. "A hundred and…? Alright, never mind…" She unconsciously brought the tips of her fingers to her temple. "What about the unfilled ones?"

Belethor went back to his shelves and brought out the soul gems without a glow to them. "Twenty eight for the petty ones. Sixty nine for lesser. I don't have any empty ones bigger than these."

"That's fine. Two of the petty and one lesser please."

Lynette counted out the coins needed. The transaction left her with three septims to her name, but at least she had the gems. There was still hope for her magical future. She watched Belethor roll the gems up into a thin piece of cloth. He handed the bundle to her and took her gold. Her jaws tightened uncomfortably as she watched all her hard earned septims disappear over the counter.

"Anything else? A new dress perhaps?"

Lynette took the bundle under her arm and looked uncertainly a the shelves behind him. "I don't know… I may end up sewing this one back together."

"I'll give you a discount for purchasing those soul gems. One time only."

Lynette politely declined. As much as any girl would love a new dress, Lynette wanted only to be a mage. That, and she only had three gold.

She bid him a good day, and he called to her as she left, "Remember, I'll get you the best deals or die trying!"

She made it back to Arcadia's Cauldron and put the soul gems away for the time being. When she got there, Arcadia had a rather relaxed work day lined up for her. She was to take the hand cart to the Battle-Born farm and pick up a few loads of wheat the woman had ordered, and then bring it back to the shop.

"Once you get back, I'll show you a few tricks about potion making," Arcadia said.

Lynette did as instructed and pulled the hand cart to the Battle-Born farm just outside the hold. After the wheat was loaded on, she pulled the cart back to Whiterun, allowing her thoughts to wander as they willed. She was still in a bit of shock from the events of the night before. The Divines had to have been watching her for her to be able to fight off three full-grown men and a trained dog. _Such is the power of magic, _she thought. _Powerful…dangerous…_

And as though that weren't enough, then she stumbled upon that wandering bard on the road. If it weren't for him, she may not have made it back to Whiterun safely on her own. Truly fortune favored her here in Skyrim.

She made it back to the hold and through the Plains District to the market square. Anoriath, the bosmer at the meats stall, waved to her as she neared the shop. She returned the gesture and went inside.

"Back already?" Arcadia said. She sat in a chair at the very end of the counter, a dress in her lap and a threaded needle between her fingers.

"Is that my old dress?"

"Yes. I'd hoped to have it done before you got back."

Lynette smiled. "Thank you Arcadia."

"Not a problem, dear. Do you need help getting that through the door?"

Lynette looked down at the cart behind her, which sat just outside the doorway. "No, I think I can manage." She began wriggling the handle, pulling it through and pushing it back, trying to find the right angle to get it through the doorway. Once inside, she pulled the cart to the back room and parked it.

"What next?"

Arcadia looked up from her needlework. "Grab the buckets and fetch some water from the well."

With a nod, Lynette went to work on the task at once. She gathered the two buckets from the back room and left out the front entrance to the well in the center of the market district. When both buckets were filled, she took them back inside and set them by the alchemy table.

Arcadia set the finished dress aside and stood. "Have you ever made potions before?"

"Some, with my mother," Lynette answered.

"Ah, good. Then you know the basics." Arcadia went to the table and brought out several glass vials, small in size. "Today, I'm going to show you how to make a simple health restoration potion using wheat and the red mountain flowers."

Arcadia brought over the ingredients and set to work. She first showed Lynette how to grind the wheat into a fine powder, then how to mush up the mountain flowers with a bit of water to make a soupy pink mix. She combined them together with just a half a cup of water and stirred until well blended, and finally poured the mixture into one of the vials. She labeled it and set it over on the shelf behind the counter, and then bade Lynette to do the same. The woman watched the young mage over her shoulder, instructing her and stepping in when needed. Once Lynette had the hang of it, Arcadia left her to work and set herself behind the counter to wait for customers.

Lynette worked all through the morning, ignoring the gnawing hunger in her stomach. When Arcadia was satisfied with the amount she had made, they breaked for soup and cheese at the Bannered Mare.

The place was pretty quiet for an inn. The bard, Mikael, strummed his lute by a chair near the fire pit. Hulda wiped down the counters and tables and made friendly chatter with Arcadia about the beautiful Second Seed weather.

Lynette sat with Arcadia at a table in the corner, near the door. At first, they ate quietly, but then Arcadia popped a question she had probably been holding for days.

"Where have you been going in the evening? Not that it's any of my business, dear. Just curious."

Lynette took her time chewing a piece of bread to think of how to answer her. The woman reminded her of back home in the Imperial City. The women there were always nosey, worse than a sewing circle. "Well, I've been trying to become a mage. I've been training with Farengar, and I think he will take me on as his apprentice soon." She quickly added, "And this won't cut into my time working for you, I promise that. It'll only be once a week I go to see him."

"Ah. Well, that's nice." Arcadia sipped her soup and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "Does he… Well, is he still angry about…?"

"Oh, no," she lied. "I'm sure he's always too busy to dwell on that night."

"Good. My, that was an embarrassing event…"

Lynette nibbled on a piece of cheese. "What were you thinking when you did that?" she asked.

"That's the thing. I wasn't thinking, at least not clearly." Arcadia folded her hands before her on the table and took on a somber look. "Honestly, I'm old. I'm lonely. I haven't gotten a compliment from a man in years," she said. "When I made that love potion, I was only expecting to get a look and a smile from him, that's it. I purposely diluted the mixture to make it as weak as possible."

Lynette swallowed a spoonful of soup. "If it was so weak, how did it affect him so strongly?"

"I think because he's lonely, too," Arcadia said, lowering her voice. "I think a large part of him wants to be loved, and that's why the reaction to the potion was so strong."

"Honestly?" Lynette stifled a giggle. "I'm sorry, I just can't believe that." She tore a piece of bread from the loaf on the center of the table, dipped it in her soup, took a bite, and then used the bread to point at Arcadia. "He hates it when anyone interrupts him from his work, and I never see him working with anyone. No assistants, nothing." She swallowed the rest of her food and leaned forward a tad. "Do you know what I've been through just for the _possibility_ of becoming an apprentice?"

"I really do think he's just lonely," Arcadia repeated. "He sits up there all day, bent over books, and I think he takes everything out on others because he doesn't know how to deal with himself. Typical Nord, if you ask me. And believe me, I've lived here for eighteen years. I know a thing or two about Nord men."

"I can see your point," Lynette said, "but it's a bit hard to grasp the idea of it. Him? Lonely?"

The two finished up their meals in light conversation and went back to the shop, well fed and ready to continue working.

**. . .**

**. . .**

It was two more days before Lynette could find the time to fill the three soul gems. After staying safely indoors and learning to craft various potions from Arcadia, Lynette all but begged her to let her go flower picking. She needed the break from the constant leaning over the table, the mashing this with that, the measuring; all of it. But what she really wanted is to fill those blasted soul gems and go see Farengar.

Finally, her break came. It was Loredas, the 15th of Second Seed. The air was warmer outside than it had been since she arrived in Skyrim, which felt like ages ago already. With the sun shining brightly and the wind playing in her long hair, Lynette made her way down the road, deciding to stay close to it in case of danger. She would not repeat her past mistakes. She was sure to stay within yelling distance of the guards that roamed the roads.

Her moment of truth came when following a shallow stream, picking lavender sprigs as she went. Mudcrabs. Two little ones, and a behemoth of a mother crab. She saw none of them at first and waltzed right into their territory, tripping over what on first thought was a rock. The rock squeaked angrily as she fell to her hands and knees. _Odd…_ When she rolled over, the bigger one was crawling toward her, pincers high in the air, waving them in a threatening manner.

Lynette was quick to get up off her hind end and run, leaving her basket behind. She chanced a look back. The mudcrabs were slow-moving beasts. Her confidence peeked out over her shoulder and nudged her to start casting the Soul Trap spell. Doing so drained her of all magicka. The spell hit the larger of the three mudcrabs and outlined it in a thin violet aura. Then she shrieked. She had no magicka and no weapons.

She turned and ran some more, the crabs slow, but determined to catch up. She waited until she felt her magicka regenerate fully to turn and start flinging flames from her palms. After a steady line of fire to her shell, the mother crab screeched and her legs crumbled beneath her, pincers falling uselessly to the earth. A thin whooshing sound filled the air, as though the air split and wind was rushing through, and a pink essence twirled from the crab's body to Lynette's pockets. The two little ones kept crawling forward.

Lynette used the same tactic with them as she did with the mother. Cast Soul Trap, run, wait for magicka to recharge, and burn them to death. Killing the small ones actually hurt her inside. They were only babies, barely big enough to fight off a kitten, let alone a practicing mage. She felt like a murderer. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away and began laughing. They were mudcrabs! Disgusting, disease-carrying things known for killing children back home near the waterways.

Oh, but those two little ones were so innocent…

Lynette backtracked the stream to pick up her basket, then made for the road, still stuck between laughing and crying. She tried to calm her jumbled nerves as she made her way along, hoping the next guard she saw didn't thing she was a devout of Sheograth or anything with the way she was acting. At least she had the soul gems filled. If only it had been that easy the first time…

That night, Arcadia locked up the shop and wished Lynette good luck. Lynette thanked her, feeling she'd need it before the night was through. Nothing was ever simple with the Jarl's wizard.

Lynette trudged up the steps, a bit tired from the day, but excited nonetheless. She made it to the top of the steps and was let in by one of the city guards. She walked along the long rug and up the steps to the massive dining hall and was about to keep going when a figure bent over Farengar's desk caught her attention through the doorway. Lynette stopped walking and started creeping toward the wall on her immediate right, then tiptoed closer to the doorway. She could hear two voices speaking quietly, one being Farengar's thick accent, and the other a woman's high-pitched voice.

"I need more time to find out where it's hiding," the woman was saying, "but I _will_ find it."

"I hope you can," Farengar said. "All my work depends on it. If you do, it will open up so many possibilities for me."

_ What on Nirn are they talking about?_

"I've already covered here and the caves to the north." Lynette heard the sound of an old parchment being rolled open. "Give me time. I still have here and here to look."

"Check them both, then come back to me."

"All right. Should only take me a few weeks."

"That won't do."

"Why not?"

"The Jarl's birthday is in two weeks. He is to have many guests over. I cannot guarantee privacy."

"All right then. What should I do?"

"Just stop in a few days after his birthday." There was a short pause, then Farengar said, "There must be something we can find to go on. I know it's out there."

"Oh, it is. I'll find it."

"Thank you for all your help. You have been a valuable asset to me."

"A pleasure, professor."

_Professor…?_

Footsteps. Lynette squeezed up flat against the wall and held her breath. When the woman walked out of Farengar's office, she did not turn and see her. Lynette figured it was her hood that kept her peripherals hampered enough for her to miss her there. She watched the woman leave.

"What are you doing?" an angry, thickly accented voice asked.

Lynette turned to see Farengar standing in the doorway, arms folded, eyes narrowed.

"Hello! I, uh… I have the soul gems you wanted," she said meekly.

"How much did you hear?"

"Not enough to know what's going on," Lynette replied. "Honest."

"Get in here."

He walked inside his office. Lynette followed, her head down.

"Well?" He stood and waited, still glaring.

"Well…what?"

"The _soul gems_. Where are they?"

"Right here," she said, dipping into her pockets. She pulled out all three and handed them to the wizard. He inspected them closely.

"These are not the ones I first gave you."

_Damn, he's good_, she thought. "No, they're not. I'm sorry."

"All right," he began, taking a seat in his chair by the desk, "Tell me what happened, and make it quick. I do not have all night."

Lynette hesitated. "I don't think you'd believe me."

Farengar's brow arched high. "Really? Well, now I'm intrigued."

She wanted to tell him the truth, but she was not yet ready to relive the events of that night. She still suffered nightmares about it. "I lost them," she finally said. "Clumsy me lost your gems." She struggled for a lie or two, grabbing at whatever came to mind. "I was gathering ingredients for Arcadia and…there must have been a hole in my pockets, because I went to check on them when I got back to the shop and they were gone."

"That does not sound nearly as exciting as you made it sound in the beginning."

"Well, I just lost them, plain and simple." She sighed. "I spent the last of my septims to buy those," she said, nodding to the soul gems in his hand.

"You filled them yourself, at least?"

"Yes. Mudcrabs."

"I can tell you did this yourself," he said. He held up the lesser soul gem with a frown. "This is filled with what is known as a petty-grade soul, not a lesser, as it should be."

"I…filled it with the wrong soul?"

"Put simply, yes."

"But how?"

Farengar stood, holding the lesser soul gem in one hand and the two petty in the other. "All three of these are filled with petty souls. In order to fill this one," he held up the lesser soul gem, "with a lesser soul, you would have had to find and kill something bigger than a mudcrab."

"But the one was _huge_," Lynette said, "with pincers bigger than my head!"

"Doesn't matter," Farengar said. "It's soul was small; petty."

"Does this mean I have to go do it all over again?"

"No. I suppose these will do for now."

"So…am I your apprentice now?"

Farengar folded his arms across his chest and looked her over thoughtfully before answering. "Yes, you are my apprentice."

A flood of relief washed over Lynette. She did it. She would finally become a mage.

"However, there is one thing I expect from you. I expect excellence; no more losing soul gems and filling them with the wrong souls. I want nothing short of perfection from you." His chin rose so that he was now looking down at her. "Do exactly as I tell you when I tell you. You will have one week to learn each spell you are given. That's plenty of time to at least be able to cast it. When you come to see me, we will work on perfecting your technique." He then tipped his head down, still locked on her eyes. "Do you understand?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

He turned and disappeared into a small room in the back of his office. When he returned, he was holding a spell tome. "I will lend you my old spell tomes, but you must bring them back to me at the end of the week. We will begin with a simple healing spell, seeing as you are so prone to danger. Here." He handed her the thick book. "Is there anything else you would like to know?"

"Well, yes. Am I to help you with any of your research?"

"I'll need time to think on it."

With nothing else to say, Lynette bowed and made her way out of the office, hugging the book to her chest. She had a lot to look forward to now. She vowed as she left Dragonsreach to become something of herself and make her family proud. She swore to Aedra and Daedra alike that she would become a mage, and nothing, not even fate, could stop her.


	8. A Friend In Need

_**A/N:** This first little snippet of a scene actually happened to a friend of mine. I thought it was so cute, I'd go ahead and put it on in here. This is the last chapter I'll have up for a while. Thank you readers, reviewers, and everyone who plays Skyrim - you all rock! *applauds*_

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Chapter Eight  
A Friend in Need

Just east of Whiterun, the road eventually splits at a fork, with two bridges going both north and east. Lynette sat on the edge of the bridge that went north, her boots dangling off the side. The Healing spell tome lay in her lap, open. She read for hours, giving a friendly greeting to the occasional passing guard. The sun was shining and there wasn't one cloud in the sky. Life was good.

When she came to a good stopping point in the book, she marked it, put the book in her flower basket, and went over the bridge. She walked northward on the road, picking the tundra cotton and lavender as she went. She came upon a farm to her left. A wooden cart set abandoned on the side of the road by the stubby stone wall surrounding the farm. Two light-haired women worked in the garden, turning the soil. Lynette smiled at them as they looked up at her.

A sprig of lavender poked out at the very end of the short wall. Lynette gathered it up and added it to her collection.

"Hey! Put that back!"

Lynette looked back at the two women. One of them had stopped working and was glaring at her from afar. Lynette decided not to provoke the woman any further and did as she was asked. She took the lavender from her basket and laid it on the ground where she picked it, stepping back onto the road with her hands up to show she meant no trouble.

"Good, now get out of here!" the woman shouted. "Stay away from my land!"

"All right, sorry!" Lynette called back, turning around with incredulous eyes. She continued down the road, feeling her shoulders relax the further away she got.

_That was odd…_ A short laugh escaped her chest. Skyrim sure was a funny place.

Lynette kept up a steady pace, picking more mountain flowers and lavender as she went. Eventually the road began to curve. Just ahead, a guard tower loomed into view. It stood sturdily off to the side of the road. As Lynette neared, she saw guards peering down from above. She waved to them merrily.

"Good morning!" she called up to them.

"Good morning young lady!" one of them called back.

_They must be able to see on forever,_ Lynette thought. Good news for her. She could travel into the surrounding hills and still be within shouting distance in case of danger. She opted to do just that. East looked as good a direction as any, so she started forward, picking up her skirts to go through the tall grass.

Butterflies fluttered around a patch of blue mountain flowers just ahead. Were butterfly wings on the list of things Arcadia wanted? She thought so. But the real question was, could she bring herself to rip off a butterfly's wings? She didn't think so.

As though they'd heard her internal struggle, the butterflies flapped away, carried by a light breeze. Lynette gathered up the flowers they had perched on and continued further away from the road.

After a good ten minutes of walking, the ground dipped out into a small valley. At the foot of a hill near the bottom was what appeared to be a shallow cave. Various types of fungi often grew along moist cave walls. Arcadia would want samples for sure.

She headed for the small cave, which upon closer inspection appeared to be more of a hollowed rock than anything. Upon coming closer, something growled at her. Lynette's left hand shot up, flames licking her fingertips. She chanced a foot closer and leaned over to get a better look inside the shallow cave.

Two dark eyes watched her guardedly. Teeth were bared in a warning: come closer and I'll have your arm. The creature was a shaggy Skyrim hound pup.

Lynette brought her hand down and extinguished the spell. She crouched into a ball, knees to her chest, hands on her knees, and looked in sideways at the dog.

"Hello there, little one," she called softly, raising the pitch of her voice just slightly.

The dog growled back, but sheathed its teeth.

"Where's your family? Do you have a family?"

She stretched out her hand to the beast and was rewarded with an angry bark and a growl. She withdrew her hand and pouted.

"What's wrong little one? I won't hurt you…"

She couldn't see very far in, but she could tell the dog was much too lean. A thin, bumpy line made up its spine, and through its shaggy fur coat she could see its ribs. An idea arose.

"Are you hungry? Are you hungry, girl?" She wasn't sure of the dog's gender, but something inside her said it was female. "Here, you can have my lunch little one." She slowly reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out the little bit of dried meat she hadn't yet munched on. She stretched it out to the beast. "Here you go. Take it. Go on, girl, it's okay…"

But the dog would not budge. It only stared at her, growling its guttural warning. Lynette didn't want to scare her, or get bit, so she set the food down on the ground and backed away.

"Goodbye, little one. Enjoy your breakfast." She gave a wave and walked away. When she was far enough away, she turned and watched the dog come out from the rock hollow and eat the meat, and then quickly retreat again. Lynette could not help but smile, feeling as though her heart had been stolen by the pup.

It was no surprise she found herself at Anoriath's meat stall the next day.

"Steaks and chops, fit for a Jarl!"

Lynette grinned wide and put a finger to her lip, looking over the section. "You know what? I'd like a cut of the venison, your freshest please."

The wood elf smiled. "Certainly! What's the special occasion?"

"Let's just say I met someone."

"Oh!" Anoriath's smile never left as he brought out a nice cut of meat and laid it on a thick linen cloth. "And may I as who the lucky man may be?" he asked as he wrapped it.

"Lucky girl," Lynette corrected. She giggled as the look on the Bosmer's face changed to mild surprise.

"Oh, pardon me…"

"No worries." She paid the elf and left the hold with the venison tucked away inside the flower basket on her arm. She picked up the pace as she neared the valley. The dog was still there, and growled when Lynette approached with her offering.

"Here you go, heart. Look what I bought you!" She unwrapped the meat from the cloth encasing and pushed it closer than she'd been before, about five feet from the lip of the hollow. "Go ahead. It's all yours, little one."

The dog refused to move from the safety of the cave, but its nose was very intrigued by the food laid out before it. Lynette left again, this time going north, further into the wilds. She walked backwards and watched the dog come out for its meal. The animal definitely had found a spot in her heart for sure.

The next day and the day after were much the same. Lynette purchased a cut of meat from Anoriath and brought it to the pup, chancing an inch closer each time. On the third day, the dog actually came out from its hollow, growling, to snatch the meat and retreat with it. Lynette stayed by the lip of the cave for at least an hour afterward, talking to her and reading her Healing spell tome aloud.

On the fourth and fifth day, it rained something fierce. Arcadia held Lynette inside to help her with potion making. Lynette talked nonstop about the dog to her, and though while not entirely enthusiastic about the idea, Arcadia gave her her blessing to keep the beast if she should happen to win its heart. Lynette couldn't be happier.

And so on the sixth day, armed with a nice slab of beef, Lynette made her merry way to the valley where the dog stayed, only to find it empty. Her heart sank. Where did she go? Was she hurt somewhere, dying? Did a pack of wolves drag her off? Lynette unpacked the meat and left, feeling more than a little morose

That night Lynette reported to Farengar for her first official hour of training. He was harsh on her, making her cast the spell repeatedly until he was satisfied it was perfect. She was drained by the end of it, tired and very irate. Where had her little dog gone? Would she be there tomorrow? She left Farengar's office with a copy of Lesser Wards and went to bed in a dour disposition.

The next morning, Lynette made her way to the valley with more meat. Again, the dog was not there, but the meat from before was gone. She left the new slab for her and returned to her job. The next day, she returned with her lunch, which she was more than prepared to give up for the pup if she was there. Lynette had picked all the herbs and mushrooms she could find around the area and now had no other reason to come this way other than to see the dog. It was now out of the way to travel there, but she didn't care. She wanted that dog.

She approached the rock hollow and sat down in front of it, legs folded. She was met with a whine.

"You're back!" Her heart filled with joy. She reached into her pack. "I don't have any fresh meat for you today heart, but I do have more dried meats." Her sentence died on a startled note when she took a closer look at the pup.

On its muzzle were open slash wounds. The blood around the wound was dry, but the wound still shimmered a bright wet red in the dark shade of the cave. She whined and whimpered, still wary of Lynette's proximity.

"Oh, poor girl…" She placed the meat out on the lip of the hollow and pulled out a bowl and a waterskin. Once the bowl was full of water, she placed it beside the meat. The dog stopped whining long enough to come forward and eat. That's when Lynette saw the animal's back leg and neck wet with blood, as well.

"You poor thing." Lynette wanted so badly to touch her, to heal her, but feared it was too soon. It might break the bond she so carefully had cultivated over the past week. "What happened to you?"

Once the dog was finished, it turned and limped back into the darkness. Lynette saw it then – _he_ was a _boy_, not a girl.

"Oh, goodness," she said. "I've been calling you a girl all this week. I'm sorry. Poor thing…"

He whined in reply.

After she had stayed longer than she should have, she got up and left to find a different area to pick ingredients. Thoughts of the dog's injuries stayed with her the entire day, and all throughout the night.

And so, on the ninth day, she decided to stop by Anoriath's stand again.

"What will it be this time?" he asked kindly.

"I'd like one of those steaks you claim to be fit for a Jarl," Lynette said.

"Ah, what a lucky lady you have!"

"Actually, he' s a boy now," she said.

Anoriath must not have known what to think of the statement, for he handed her the steak quietly and gave her a very weak goodbye when she left.

Lynette rushed to the valley, a nervous knot growing in the pit of her stomach. She rounded the hill and looked down into the valley. Three black wolves circled the cave, baring teeth.

"No!"

Lynette dropped her flower basket and slung her pack off her shoulder, tossing it to the ground while she ran down, full speed, toward the wolves. She called on her magicka and produced a hot flame in her palm, screaming. The wolves trotted away from her and re-gathered, their stance defensive.

"Get away from here!" she cried, her voice shrill to her ears. A twelve foot long flame shot out from her hand, powered with all the anger and all the fear inside her. She called up a flame in the other hand and joined it with the first, causing it to extend further. It roared from her palms, singeing the closest wolf and causing them all to jump back. The one furthest tried to sidestep and attempt to flank her. She brought both hands toward him and flames erupted again, killing the wolf as it tried to push through them.

This left her open for attack. The singed wolf jumped at her, tearing through the air like an arrow, aiming for her neck. Out of her peripheral vision, the dog leapt into view, crashing into the airborn wolf. They fell to the ground in a flurry of teeth and claws while the third wolf got smart and bolted from the fight, taking off deep into the surrounding forest.

Lynette wanted to help the dog who was fighting valiantly to save her life, but her flames would engulf them both. She would not let the dog die. _I have healing_, she thought. _If worse comes to worse, I will just have to heal myself and call for help._ She gently set what little logic and sense she had left aside and dove into the fight, palms blazing.

Dirt and pieces of grass flung through the air while the wolf and the dog fought. Lynette could not distinguish them apart in all the fuss – they looked like a big rolling ball of fur and snarls. She reached her hands into the fray to pull them apart. One of them snapped at her hand, drawing blood. It was enough to cause them to swing away from each other, if only for a small moment, but Lynette took this moment to grab the wolf by the shoulder blades and use her flame spell. It yipped and tore away from them, afraid. The dog stood shakily beside her, growling. Before the wolf could escape, Lynette let forth a burst of flames that consumed it. It crashed to the ground, its fur singed and covered in burnt bloody meat, dead.

Lynette hadn't realized tears were streaming down her cheeks until she turned and looked at the poor pup. Its leg and neck were infected, and he looked incredibly weak and shaken.

She crouched to the ground and held a hand out, calling softly in a trembling voice, "Come to me, little one. Please, come here…"

The dog, tail between his legs, let out a long, pitiful whimper. He had such sad, scared little brown eyes.

"Come here, boy. I won't hurt you…"

She crawled closer. The dog whined again, louder. She stretched out her arm as far as it would go and felt fur, long and coarse.

"That's a good boy. It's all right…"

She scratched at his head and patted him, listening to him whine, until she felt he wouldn't run. Then she held her hand flat on his skull and called on her magicka for healing. She felt its warmth spread through her body to her hand, as she had many times before under the strict instruction of Farengar, and when she opened her eyes, a soft yellow light was emanating from her hand. She held her breath and concentrated on the spell until she had exhausted her magicka. The dog sat before her, no longer whining but panting, the scratch marks on its nose gone. Three thin, barely noticeable lines replaced the marks. Her hands wandered to the dried blood on its neck. The wound was gone. She inspected the leg. It was fine.

"I did it."

The dog began to wag his tail, though it still stayed low. He stepped closer and began licking her face, and she laughed and gave him a good scratch.

Once the shock of everything wore off, she went to the top of the hill. The dog followed. She took out the steak for him and set it beside her. He gobbled it down, tail in full swing. She stayed and talked to him for a good while, and when she got up to leave, he watched her go, his ears perky and his body language no longer threatened by her. She'd won his heart at last.

. . .

. . .

That night, Lynette talked excitedly to Arcadia about the dog and what had happened.

"I think he really likes me now. He even watched me go."

"Well, as my mother used to say, the quickest way to anyone's heart is through their stomach," Arcadia chipped in. The shop was closed for the night, and the two sat in the back, eating a light dinner of bread and apples.

"So you'll still let me keep him, then? If he were to come home with me?"

"Of course. I think it's a good idea to have a protective dog around. It'll keep anyone from thinking twice about robbing me again."

"You were robbed?" Lynette blinked. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No, I was fine. But when I got downstairs the next day, all the shelves were bare. They even stole my rug."

Lynette shook her head. "That's frightening. Hopefully if I can get that dog to follow me here, he'll be a staunch protector. I think he will be."

Arcadia sliced up another apple to split between them. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Actually, no. The thought never occurred yet."

That night, Lynette laid in her bed on the floor, listening to the familiar creaks and groans of the shop, wracking her brain for names for her new friend. A Cyrodiilic or Breton name just sounded much too soft for the pup. She wanted something strong, something Nord. Only a Nord name would do.

For the first time since being taken by bandits, Lynette had a wonderful sleep void of nightmares.


	9. A Drink

_**A/N:** So... I made some mistakes yesterday with the story while trying to update the chapters, ended up deleting chapter one, and had to repost it. I apologize to those of you following the story and got the email that said I updated - big fat false alarm. So, this is my apology chapter! It was kind of rushed, and I hope it isn't too apparent while you're reading it. I had to push to get it all written down - I really felt bad about the false update, so I wanted to get this out to you guys as soon as I could! I hope you enjoy._

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Chapter Nine  
A Drink

_27th of Second Seed, 4E 198_

_ Dear Mother and Father,_

_ Please, forgive me for not writing sooner. It has taken me some time, but I have finally found a place for myself in Skyrim. I'm not writing from the College of Winterhold, but from the city of Whiterun, some ways south of the college. Let me explain._

_ I know the plan was for me to go to the college, but as it turns out, I am not yet qualified to enter. No worries, for I've found an alternative. I am now an apprentice to a qualified wizard, Farengar Secret-Fire. I am only on my first lesson, but already I've learned so much._

_ Again forgive me for not writing sooner. I also have been working. I found employment at a local alchemy shop with a kind woman named Arcadia. She has been teaching me much about how to work with the local plant life. She even trusts me enough to brew potions. Oh Mother, you would be so proud._

_ I love you and miss you both, and give Stophen my love, as well. Please, write back to me._

_Love Always,  
Lynette_

Lynette was finishing her letter as another customer walked into the Cauldron. She looked over her shoulder from where she sat in the back room to see a tall, grizzly man clad in rough iron armor, carrying a rather large bag on his back. Another adventurer, no doubt.

"Welcome! Browse at your leisure," Arcadia chimed from her place behind the counter.

Lynette turned back around and continued munching on her forgotten apple while the man approached the counter.

"Do you buy potions as well as sell them?"

"Yes, yes," Arcadia said. "Absolutely."

Lynette heard a rustle of fabric, then the sound of a pack being set on the counter and glass clinking together.

"So, you're an adventurer?" Arcadia asked.

"You could say that," the man replied. His voice was gruff, weathered. Lynette wondered if perhaps he was a sellsword.

The two completed the interaction as Lynette finished her apple. Then the man asked, "Do you make poisons?"

"Upon request, yes," Arcadia said.

"What about paralysis poisons?"

"Simple," she said. "I don't have any on hand, but if you return within an hour, I should have it ready. How many?"

"Three."

Lynette stood and chucked the apple core out the back door. Break time was over. She gathered her letter and placed it in her pocket, then entered the main room where Arcadia and the customer were. The man was just leaving when Arcadia turned to her, hands clasped.

"Lynette, I need you to run to Belethor's for a few things."

"All right."

"See if he has any canis root, imp stools, or swamp fungal pods. I need three of each."

Lynette repeated the three ingredients to commit them to memory. "All right. Anything else?"

"Nope, just that. And if he doesn't have any, go see Farengar. He should have something."

Arcadia handed her a full coin purse, and Lynette made her way out the door with a basket on her arm. The brief daily chatter of the open market area died behind her upon entering the eccentric Breton's shop.

"Ah, my favorite customer!" Belethor boomed.

"I bet you say that to all your customers," Lynette said with a half-smile.

Belethor bellowed a hearty laugh. "What can I do for you today darlin'?"

Lynette told him what she needed, and he disappeared behind the counter.

"Afraid I only have two impstools and two fungal pods," he said as he reappeared. "But I do have all the root you need."

"That's fine," Lynette said. "I'll take them all, please."

She handed the gold over for the ingredients and tucked them carefully into her basket, then waved a good bye and left. Then, she high-tailed it to Dragonsreach.

. . .

. . .

"Oh. It's you."

Lynette smiled at Farengar and let herself into his office. "Good morning! I have a bit of a dilema. I need one imp stool and one swamp fungal pod. Do you have either?" She jingled the coin purse at her side to let him know Arcadia fully intended to pay for his services.

Farengar sighed as he stood straight. "I'll go see what I have," he said, and went into the back room. "What does she need them for?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled behind the wall.

"A paralysis potion," she called back.

He emerged shortly after with a sizable imp stool and something that gave Lynette the creeps. It was a reddish collar with green highlights, about the size of her fist, and was spiny.

"What is that?"

"A briar heart."

"Is that...an actual..."

"It will work in place of a pod. Trust me. And if she's half the alchemist she says she is, she'll be able to counter the negative effects easily."

Lynette held out her basket. "Just lay it inside. I'm not touching it."

Farengar smiled – something that was not only a rarity, but looked _good_ on him, Lynette realized. She tried not to stare at him for too long as he placed the briarheart in the basket, along with the imp stool. Once he had his payment, he returned to his desk and proceeded to lean over a book. Lynette took that as her cue to leave.

"Oh, wait," Farengar called.

Lynette stopped, turned, and came back to his office. "Yes?"

"Here; my shopping list," he said, and pulled out a small piece of paper with scribbling on it. He handed it to her.

"I'll make sure Arcadia gets it right away."

And with that, Lynette left, feeling a strange little pep in her step. That was one of the few times Farengar didn't bark or baulk at her. It was nice.

Lynette arrived back with the basket of ingredients and set them on the counter top. She plucked Farengar's list from the arrangement and handed it to Arcadia.

"Here you are; from Farengar."

Arcadia's eyes widened slightly as she took the note and read it over.

"It isn't anything bad," Lynette reassured her. "It's just an order. You can relax."

"Relax?" she asked, reading the note over again. "How am I supposed to relax at this?"

She handed the note back and Lynette read it aloud. "One pound of juniper berries... Must have by the 29th."

"That's two days from now!" Arcadia cried. "How does he expect me to come up with that many in just two days?"

Lynette tried to think on the matter. "Well, that just means I have two days of picking to do."

Arcadia gave a short chuckle. "Not this time, my dear. Juniper berries grow wild in the Reach."

"What's that?"

"It's a very dangerous place out to the west. What with bandits and the Foresworn, I'm afraid you'd come back in a box."

"Ah, wouldn't want that..."

"Well, I could send you to Markarth. Half a day's ride from here. I know a girl from the Hag's Cure who could help us out."

"Is there enough time?"

"If you leave now, yes," she said.

. . .

. . .

Lynette had made sure to feed Folkvar and give him plenty of water. That's what she was calling him now – Folkvar. She felt it was a proud, worthy name for such a handsome Skyrim pup, and believed he would carry it well. When she left him, he nearly followed her down the road, but eventually sat and watched her go again. She hoped he would come home with her soon, before anything else bad happened.

It was approaching late morning by the time she was ready to leave. She said farewell to Arcadia, got the money needed for the order, and made her way to the stables, where a horse-drawn cart was normally found waiting for customers.

She had brought books for the long ride – the Lesser Ward spell tome, along with Arcadia's copy of Herbalist's Guide to Skyrim. For some reason, however, she could not concentrate long enough to get any readying done. Thoughts kept creeping into her mind in the middle of reading a sentence, and before she knew it, she was lost in thought while she read, and had no idea at all _what_ she had just read.

Another problem she had along the ride was the fear of being robbed. She was carrying quite a pretty amount of coin on her now, and was terrified bandits would be policing the roads at some point along the way, demanding all of their money and anything else of value.

She contemplated much on the ride. One thing she thought about greatly was her silver ring, and the possibility of it being taken during a bandit raid. It was said to have been kissed by the 21st Septim of the Septim dynasty, the very Uriel Septim VII himself. The story went that her great grandmother was but a young woman, and played the lute for him along with her fellow players during his 64th year of rule – just a year before the Oblivion crisis. He respectfully kissed her hand, and on her hand was her ring. When he saw it, he made the comment that someone who could play as well as she should not be wearing simple things, but living in the lap of luxury, and this inspired her to travel and train under a well-known bard, eventually making a name for herself. But she always kept the ring to remind herself where she came from.

Lynette scoffed. She couldn't believe she was almost desperate enough to sell it to Belethor when she first came here. Then again, there were extenuating circumstances that almost lead to that. But, nevertheless, she was glad she still had it with her.

Another thought that seemed to plague her was...that damn wizard Farengar.

Why was he on her mind as of late? She couldn't seem to stop thinking about him. Was it because of their teacher-student relationship, and that she was just eager to please him? Was it really that? She didn't think so. Not when every time she saw him, her heart jump started in her chest. Not when the few times she caught him smiling, she stared at him like an idiot, a damn fool, and her mind went blank and her fists clenched of their own accord.

She couldn't get the night he found her magicka off her mind. It was...intense. She didn't just feel him guiding her to her magicka, but when hers reached out and touched his pool, she could feel everything inside of him, his movements and his breathing, his heartbeat... She could almost feel what he felt, and see what he saw. But what was he really seeing then? Just an stupid child he had to teach the fundamentals of being a mage to? A fumbling idiot? She remembered when she handed him that love elixir, how she had nearly dropped it. Why couldn't her clumsiness have prevailed at that moment and save him from embarrassing himself in front of her, in front of Arcadia?

There were so many questions, and absolutely no answers.

By the time they reached the city of Markarth, it was late; nearly midnight. She decided she would get a room for the night and get started on finding the Hag's Cure bright and early in the morning.

Only, she was much to distracted by what she saw to even think about what she would do tomorrow.

She leapt gingerly off the back of the cart and looked at the tall, stone structure surrounding the gates of Markarth. It had to be old – ancient, even. She stepped forward, in complete awe of it, and the closer she got to the long stone steps, the smaller she felt in comparison.

She made her way up the steps, greeted by two guards on either side of her.

"This is Markarth, traveler. Safest city in the Reach."

"Thank you," she said to the guard, and he opened the tall, metal doors for her to enter.

The stone city was vast, to say the least. Every carving was intricate, every piece of metal shone proudly, though still dulled with age and wear. It was marvelous, and Lynette could not wait to get lost in it! She was in Markarth – said to have been built by the dwemer. What an honor to stand among its tall stone walls and metal doors.

An idea hit her, and she headed to the nearest guard for directions.

"Excuse me," she said to one patrolling the road on her left. He turned to her. "Where can I find the general goods store?"

"Ah, you're looking for Arnleif and Sons Trading Company," the guard said through his face mask. Lynette noted that he had no type of Skyrim accent. "You're in luck – they should be open this late." He pointed and started to open his mouth, but stopped short with a hearty laugh. "It would be better if I took you there. This place is a maze to travelers."

"That would be lovely," Lynette said.

The guard began walking, and she followed along side him.

"What brings you to Markarth, Miss..."

"Lacroix," she answered. "Lynette Lacroix."

"Ah, Breton. I happen to be Breton, myself."

"Oh, really?" Lynette looked him over and laughed lightly. "A bit hard to tell with all that armor on."

The guard brought his hands to his head and removed his helmet. He smiled sheepishly at her. His face was clean shaven and the tips of his brown hair just reached his blue eyes. He tucked the helm under one arm and placed the other over his midsection as he stopped to bow. "I am Andane Valacourt, of the house of Ondette."

Lynette stopped and grinned. Two could play at this game. She went into a deep bow, something she learned from her father (along with Breton ball dancing and tea brewing), and came back up with a mock snobbish expression. "Pleased, I'm sure."

"The pleasure is mind, my lady."

Lynette laughed and relaxed. It was so nice to meet another person who wasn't...well...a Nord. It wasn't that she had anything against them. It was just that they all seemed so cold, so proud. Unapproachable. Like Farengar.

Damn, how did he always sneak into her head like that?

Lynette shook her head and inhaled, remembering his question. "What brings me here? Well, it's not the weather."

Andane smiled at her. He was quite attractive. For a Breton.

"I'm actually here on business. I...eh... I run an alchemy shop in Whiterun," she said. She hoped the gods wouldn't damn her for one little white lie.

"But you're so young to have your own shop."

"It was inherited."

"Must be lonely for your husband, eh?"

Lynette smirked. This man was pretty smooth – or at least he thought he was. "I have no husband," she said as they neared a set of steps. They ascended side by side, still making small talk.

"But you look too old not to be married off by now," Andane replied, then added quickly, "I hope you forgive me for saying so."

"You're forgiven," she said. "I just have no interest in settling down right now, not when I have so much going for me."

"Right. A life in a shop is so aspiring."

"Hey!" she replied, a bit hurt by his comment, but could see he only meant to be playful by his handsome smile. "The life of a guard isn't exactly adventurous, either."

"No, you have that right," he said as they reached the top of the steps and headed up another set.

They neared a door finally, and he opened it for her. She entered with a bow of her head and a quick farewell, and made her way to the counter. When she came back out, she was sporting a brand new leather bound journal, a feathered quill, and a vial of ink.

It was quite late now, and she was beginning to feel road weary, but the excitement of such a beautiful city had her adrenaline going. She made her way down the many stone steps and around corners, hoping she was going the right way. When she found a guard, she asked for the nearest inn, and he pointed her to the Silver-Blood Inn, just across the way from the entrance of the city.

The inn was alive with chatter and moving bodies. It was a large, open room with a square shaped bar in the center. Two people sat on the right, watching the standing men whom clapped for the singing bard, and one was on the leftmost side. To her left, a woman swept the floor. She gave Lynette a smile. The man behind the bar noticed her and waved her in.

"Come in. The Silver-Blood Inn has plenty of strong drink and clean rooms."

She nodded and stepped forward, taking a seat at the bar area.

"A glass of wine please."

"I'll pay for it," came a voice from behind her. She swiveled around to see Andane and smirked with a light snort.

"You again."

"You caught me off duty," Andane explained. He was still in his guard garb, minus the helm. Andane turned to the innkeeper and slapped the table to get his attention. "I'll have an ale."

The innkeeper brought them their drinks and left them to take another customer's order.

"So, you've never been to Markarth before?"

"No," she said. "This is my first time."

"Then I would recommend you pay a little extra for the better rooms. It's worth it, if not for the aesthetic aspect of it.

"Really now?"

"Oh yes," he said, taking a swig of his ale. "They put actual dwarven cookware and pottery in their pricier rooms. It's quite an experience to sleep in a room full of dwemer artifacts. And the beds are bigger."

"That sounds lovely. I just might have to do that then," Lynette said. She sipped her wine – it was awfully weak to be the price it was, but she didn't complain. Andane must have read her expression though, because he gave her a one-sided smile.

"The drink is watered down here in Markarth," he said, "but it's cheap. If you want the good stuff, you have to pay a good price."

"That's fine," Lynette said. "I was only planning on having one drink, anyway."

"Oh, and leave me out here to drink by myself?"

Lynette smiled. "Well, I suppose I could have one more after this. But just one. I have errands to run in the morning."

"Alchemy business?"

She nodded and took another sip of her wine. "A customer ordered a pound of juniper berries – a pound!"

"Whatever for?"

"I'm not sure... I don't usually ask. I just provide."

"So, you shut down the shop for a few days for one customer? That's pretty dedicated – I like that."

Lynette laughed. "No, I have an assistant watching things for me." She brought the goblet to her lips and took a hefty gulp – all this lying was making her nervous. _Why did I lie in the first place_, she wondered?_ To impress him? I should have just stuck with the truth..._

"Ah, an assistant. So I take it you're not in Skyrim with family, then?"

"No, they're back home in Cyrodiil. My mother runs a shop in Bruma. I made my way north looking to expand the business."

"Ah." Andane took a deep gulp of his ale and smiled to himself. "I thought you said you inherited the shop."

Lynette froze. Damn it all.

"Alright, alright – I _lied_," she confessed, somewhat overcome with emotion. "I don't know why I did, but I did. There. It's out." She sighed and downed the rest of her cheap, watery wine in three gulps.

"It's alright," Andane said with a chuckle. "I lied, as well." He took a quick drink and looked back to her.

"You did?"

"I surely did," he said. He waved to the innkeeper and ordered another round of drinks for them, then turned back to Lynette. "I told you I was Breton. I lied. I'm only a quarter Breton. The rest was for show."

"Ah!" Lynette felt a rush of relief. "I'm only half, myself!"

"So you lied twice over?"

"Well, no... I didn't exactly tell you I was Breton or not," she said with a grin.

"What does it matter what's in our blood, anyway?" he said, accepting his fresh ale with a quick thank you. "We all lie. We all sleep. We all cry."

The innkeeper brought her the second goblet of wine and took the first one away. She thanked him and turned back to Andane. "I like the way you think," she said, "however...we _are_ very different by blood. Imperials seem to only worry about where they're going to make their next coin. Bretons care only for social status and whose bloodline is the purest. Nords, from what I've seen, tend to be very proud, and very standoffish."

"That would be the way they are raised to be. It has nothing to do with blood."

Lynette thought this over while taking a deep sip from her goblet. "You know, you are completely right. I never thought about it that way before."

Andane smiled and raised his tankard. Lynette brought her goblet up and they clinked their containers together.

"To learning new things," he said.

"To new found friendships," she added.

She drank deeply and felt her smile touch her eyes.

That was the last thing she remembered of that night.

* * *

_**A/N: PS, I'm working on a possible new story! It will be centered around the Companions, but will not be following the questline in the game. The story will take place after the events of the game. I was wondering, would you guys like to help me choose the character's class, race, and romance? I posted a poll on my profile page - vote now!**_


	10. The Main Course

Chapter Ten  
The Main Course

"She looks tasty. I can't wait to bite into her. So supple..." It was a man's voice.

"Mm, agreed. But Nimphaneth gets the first bite. You will have to wait your turn, Banning."

_I know that voice... Is that...Andane? _Lynette tried to open her eyes, but light flooded her blurry vision and sent her head swimming.

"Shh. I think she's coming to."

"Ooh! Let me see – I want to see the look on her face when she wakes up!" came a female voice.

"By our Lady, does she look _delicious_..."

Lynette tried to move, but her limbs were heavy._ I've been drugged,_ she realized, a slow horror coming over her._ Oh gods, I've been drugged and kidnapped..._

"Hello, love. Time to wake up. The real feast is about to begin."

That was definitely Andane's voice.

Lynette struggled to open her eyes again, this time forcing them. She squinted against the soft, wavering lights of candles all around her. She moved her leg up, bumping something, causing it to fall over, and felt a cool liquid touch the bottom of her other calf. She was on a table.

"...What...?" Her voice was hoarse. It was hard to speak. "...What's...happening...?"

"You've awakened just in time," said Andane. She could see his outline hovering over her, a shark-toothed grin across his blurry face.

She blinked several times, trying to get her eyes to work. When they did, she slowly lifted her head and took in her surroundings.

Lynette was indeed on a table, and there were others around her. Standing above her was Andane, and a man she didn't recognize; he had shoulder-length, black hair, slicked back, and sported a clean shaven face and hungry brown eyes. To her right on a bench before the table was a balding man in a red tunic, and beside him a young woman wearing somewhat revealing studded armor with a tattoo on on the left side of her face that centered around a scarred and damaged eye. Further down the table was a sweet looking Dunmer woman, watching everything with a relaxed expression. To Lynette's left, another woman, this one middle-aged, with long red hair and a fur-lined cap on her head.

"Where...am I?" Lynette croaked, fear threatening to take over. She fought it back. She had to stay calm.

"You are the center of attention tonight," the balding man said, taking a drink from a tankard. "The main course."

"Yes, aren't you the lucky one," the red-headed woman replied, chuckling.

Lynette propped herself up on her elbows slowly, as not to provoke anyone, and blinked. Far across from her was the shrine of the Lady of Decay, the dark daedric prince Namira. There was no mistaking it; the sharp-edged bowl with bat wings protruding from its sides; the spindly legs coming down from the sides of a hungry, insect-like face, and the chain with a large barb of an arrow pointing down to the table – a table which had probably seen many a senseless sacrifice.

On the dining table just below her was a sight almost as horrid. A body lay there, missing an arm and a leg, with the rest of it carved in places and missing chunks of meat. The skull had been crushed open and hallowed out.

_They intend to eat me..._

Andane cupped her chin in his hand and smiled tenderly at her. "You're quite a catch. We've been feasting on nothing but the long-dead for weeks now. It's nice to finally have fresh meat."

The man beside him with the long black hair lifted her arm and bit into it – not enough to tear flesh, but enough to make her cry out and jerk away. He laughed. They all laughed.

And then the strangest feeling came over her. A sort of calm. An unwavering confidence. It felt familiar...it felt like someone was taking over the part of her that wanted to run and was turning it around. She felt in control of the situation. Suddenly, she knew exactly what to do, and exactly what to say.

"You fools," she spat, swinging her legs off the side of the table. Andane and the man backed up a few steps, giving off confused smiles, watching her as she stepped wobbly down from the table to the bench where the red-headed woman sat, to the floor. They didn't come for her, as she was not only outnumbered, but because she was walking away from the entrance and further down the table. "Don't you recognize one of your own when you see it?"

Though, her body was still sluggish and slow to respond to her command, her eyes were clear now, and she could see the expressions on everyone's faces go from amused to questioning.

"You follow in the path our Lady of Decay?" the red-headed woman asked.

"What a twist," the balding man declared.

"Lies," Andane said, immediately taking a defensive stance.

The young woman in the studded armor walked silkily over to her with a slight smirk. "This is between you and me, sister."

"Really now?" Lynette said, putting a hand on her hip. "How is that so?"

"Because Nimphaneth over there," she pointed to the elven woman, "was to eat you for her initiation, and I am her charge. I brought her here with the promise of a good meal."

Lynette smiled, but felt herself falter. The confidence, the calm she had felt, was slipping now. Strange, how familiar it felt, and yet she did not believe it to be her own.

"By Namira, you will not have my flesh – but if you come any closer-" she added, noting the way the girl seemed to take an inch nearer "-I just might have yours..."

"Don't pay any mind to her," Andane said, waving a dismissing arm out before him. "She lies. Can't you tell?"

"_Damn_ it," the balding man at the table said, "I thought we'd have a fresh meal tonight."

The man with the slicked back black hair chimed in, "Someone should die already."

Panic rose in Lynette's chest, traveling toward her throat, tightening it. "Wait," she said. "Why can't we all feast together as brothers and sisters under our dark Lady? Don't you see – if there is chaos among us, we might as well be savages, killing off each other. We must have trust in each other. I say we go out and hunt down our meal, _together_."

The dark elf at the end of the table whom had been silent up until now, Nimphaneth, spoke. "I like it."

"I don't," Andane all but growled.

"The girl has a point," the red-headed woman said. "If we don't all stick together, we will only end up consuming each other."

The man with the black hair sighed. "I don't care _what_ we do, I just want to _eat_."

"One of you, come with me, so that you know my intentions to be true," Lynette said, looking around at all of them. "We will hunt."

The young woman in the studded armor before her nodded her head. "I will go with you-"

"-No," Andane cut in, "I will go with her." He looked at Lynette. "But you must do something first."

"Alright," Lynette agreed, though, she didn't like where this was going.

Andane stepped up to her and waved a hand at the corpse lying across the table. "Prove you are what you say you are."

Lynette's teeth clenched. She gulped and said as smoothly as she could muster, "Of course..."

He pushed between her and the girl with the studded armor and picked up a long kitchen knife from the table. He stabbed it into the arm of the body, and Lynette felt her stomach drop.

_Oh gods...oh gods, help me..._

Once he had a small piece carved off, he pinched it with his dirty bare fingers and approached her with a grin. "Open up."

There was no time to hesitate, no time for stammering or more lies – Lynette opened her mouth and kept her eyes open, staring off into the space between herself and the ceiling, encouraging herself with brave thoughts. _You can do this, keep your mouth open. Your life is on the line, just shut up and for Divines sake, don't stop chewing..._

He held her jaw open with one hand and stuffed the pinkish meat into her mouth. She jerked away from his hold and glared at him as she bit down, feeling her mouth flood with a strange, sweet taste. Bile threatened to rise up into her throat, but she swallowed it down with a chunk of the flesh and promised herself she would induce vomiting the second she got the chance.

A dark, feminine laugh filled her mind, and there was no question whom was about to speak to her.

_Welcome, unwilling one... Your consumption of the blood and bile of Arkay's own is...pleasing to me._

Lynette ignored the voice. Namira was a nightmare, a daedric prince not to be trifled with. She turned and smiled, wiping the corner of her mouth. "I think I've made my point."

To that there was cheering, and the woman in the studded armor clasped her arm respectfully and gave her a smile.

_Wallow in your wretchedness, my newest champion..._

The laughing in her mind grew even louder as Lynette followed Andane around the table and toward the exit of the ruins.

. . .

. . .

They walked out of two tall, metal doors and into the cold morning air. Masser and Secunda both shown bright in the starry sky, lighting their path.

The ground was overgrown in brush and brambles. To their right, a stream rushed by that turned into a waterfall further down. Great boulders blocked their path ahead, so Andane took them left to a narrow path that lead to a worn down road.

At first they were both silent. But Lynette built up the courage to ask, "Why did you decide you wanted to come with me?"

"Namira told me to," he said. "My Lady's wish is my command."

Lynette's stomach rumbled. She felt sick, but kept herself calm and reminded herself to keep swallowing the saliva that pooled under her tongue.

"She talked to you?"

"Of course. She speaks to us all if she deems it necessary, or to welcome one of us to the coven."

They made their way over rocks and brush, and finally made it to the road. Andane turned right, and Lynette followed, asking, "Is she the reason you're letting me live?"

Andane laughed heartily before replying in a rugged tone, "Yes, actually."

"What else does she say?" Lynette asked. Her stomach felt so sour now – she truly believed she might not have to cause herself to throw up later, because it was very possibly going to happen soon.

"She says that...you are a sheep in wolf's clothing. And that you please her greatly."

They neared an arched stone bridge that extended over the river. Lynette's stomach was no longer under her control. She clutched it, hoping he wouldn't turn around and see what she was doing, and asked, "What do you intend to do with me?"

"Namira wants me to help you hunt, to feed with you."

It was too late. Lynette doubled over on the ground and began retching, trying to hold her hair out of her face. The first wave was terrible – it was more of a shower bile. The second wave brought up the dead flesh she had consumed – to which she thanked the Divines. The last few waves were more or less dry heaves, but she welcomed them, as it ensured that all of the contents of her stomach had been flushed out, and she was going to be fine.

Except, Andane had stopped and was watching her the whole time.

She slowly looked up at him and stood on wobbly legs. "What are your...actual intentions?"

"To kill you," he said. "I saw you first. Your beautiful flesh. You're _mine_."

Before Lynette could blink, Andane lunged for her, grabbing her by the upper part of her arm. He yanked her toward him. Her shoe landed in the vomit, and she staggered to the side, trying to pull away from him. Screaming would do her no good here, she knew, but she couldn't help the strangled gasps that escaped.

She swung her free hand toward his face and unleashed her magicka, but Andane was quicker – he knocked her arm out of the way, and a burst of flame shot out in an irregular arc harmlessly two feet from the side of his head.

"Ah, I _knew_ you weren't as innocent as you looked," he snapped. He grabbed hold of her other arm, keeping her palms away from him, and rammed his head into her forehead. Colorful dots of light swam across her vision for a second, just long enough for him to gain the upper hand and shove her to the ground. He crawled on top of her and pinned her arms down with his knees, then brought his thick hands to her delicate neck and began to squeeze.

Panic crept in, but then the strangest thing happened. That calm, that confidence returned – full and robust, filling her with good thoughts – she would win, she would make it, she could do this. She let the feeling take over as he squeezed tighter and tighter, and soon it was as though someone else was in her body, controlling her.

Her hands bent until they could bend no more, fingers facing the sides of Andane's head. Flames spread out from the tips and engulfed his face. He immediately let go and began screaming and patting at himself to put the flames out.

Lynette rubbed at her throat and attempted to stand, but then Andane did something she did not expect. He came charging for her, his posture low, meaning to tackle her. And he did, ramming into her midsection with the force of a bull, sending them both flying to the ground. Flames caught to her dress and shot up her arms, and a terrified scream burst from her lungs.

Andane rolled off of her, and she instantly stood and ran for the arched bridge. Seconds seemed an instant, and she was jumping into the water without a second thought. She landed wrong on a boulder and scraped the side of her leg, but ignored the pain and dipped under the icy cold surface to put the flames out. The temperature was so cold, it stole her breath. She jumped up for air.

A splash came from behind her, and she reacted instantly, trying to dive further away from the sound, but was stopped when a fist came at the side of her head and smashed into her ear. She lost her balance and tumbled over. She wobbled around, trying to gain footing and get as far away from the man as possible, but two large hands grabbed her shoulders, pulled her backward until she fell into the water, and then proceeded to hold her down in the freezing darkness.

All that strange confidence was gone, replaced by terror. She dug her nails into the flesh of his arms as she jerked and thrashed violently about, but he still held her down. Her strength was just not enough. She could not fight him, a full grown, muscled man. It made her realize just how lucky she was to have gotten away from the three bandits.

It took all of ten long seconds for her air to run out, for water to come rushing into her lungs, and for her vision to black out the second time that night.

. . .

. . .

When Lynette awoke, she was on her side, coughing up water. She heard a voice speak, but it was not in her head – it was outside.

"Oh good, you're alive."

Lynette looked up, matching the voice with a face. It was the young woman in the studded armor. She sat on her rump, one hand behind her on the ground to hold herself up, the other holding a chunk of meat to her mouth. They were both on a rock at the river's edge, the bridge to her left.

The girl chewed merrily and smiled at Lynette. "If you had died, I would have ate you, too. But I'm glad you didn't."

"Well," Lynette said, clearing her throat and pushing herself up into a seated position, "I am glad you didn't assume too early, then."

"Would you like some?" the girl offered, handing her a piece.

Lynette looked at the blackened, wet face of Andane's corpse and shivered. "No, thank you. I've had my fill tonight..."

It was now that she was beginning to feel the pains of her battle. Her right ear was pounding with blood rushing to it, and the area was very tender. The arms of her dress were charred and the flesh beneath burned raw. She carefully brought up her right hand and called on her healing spell, holding it there, focusing on it until the pains in her body slowly melted away.

"Magic, how charming," the girl said. "Perhaps one day you could teach me something of it."

"Oh, I'm still learning, myself," Lynette admitted, then thought to herself, _You idiot, tell the whole world everything about yourself!_ She quickly tried to divert the subject. "So, um...what exactly happened?"

"I saved you. Isn't it obvious?" the girl said. She smiled in a very serpentine way and added, "I'm Eola. I was second in command to Andane, until you came along."

"I'm guessing...you're the head of the coven now?"

Eola didn't answer, but she didn't need to. The smile said it all.

"I had been praying to Namira, telling her I could rule this coven so much better than Andane ever could. I prayed for months. I never gave up hope that my Lady would answer me, and finally, you showed up." She paused to bite into the hunk of meat in her hand and chewed it thoroughly before swallowing to continue. "Namira told me she liked you, that you were special. She told me that if I wanted the power I so sought, that I should protect you from Andane, as he meant to kill you."

"How did she know all this?"

"She's Namira. She knows our hearts sickest desires. And it was also painfully obvious Andane wasn't just going to hunt with you. Everyone in that room knew he would come back with your corpse, probably already bitten into." Eola snickered. "I can't believe you would just go with him like that."

"Ooh, trust me – I knew it wasn't going to end well," Lynette admitted. "I just needed a way to get away from an entire room full of cannibals." She sighed and looked over, a little confused. "So...you're _not_ going to kill me?"

"No." She took another bite and continued with a mouthful. "Namira wanted you alive. I obey my Lady, unlike Andane. He was not fit to be the leader of our coven, not with that outlook – ask Namira for everything, but never listen to what she has to say. What a simple cur."

Lynette took in a big breath and let it out slowly. There were many questions, and much to think over later. Right now, she felt she needed to get as far away from these crazed people as possible.

"Well, thank you for saving me," she said, carefully getting to her feet. "There are no words that can describe just how grateful I am for that."

"I live to serve the Lady," Eola replied. "Thank her. She's the one that wants you alive."

"Ah, well, um...you did the actual saving, so I'll just thank you for now. So, I should be going..."

Eola leaned back a little to look past Lynette. "Just cross the bridge and follow the road down to the main road, then take a left on it and follow it all the way to Markarth. Not hard to miss."

"Thank you, again," Lynette said.

As she began walking, she checked her person. She still had her coin purses – hers and the one Arcadia gave her to cover the cost of traveling, a room, and the berries they needed. _I guess they cared more about my skin than my coin,_ she thought, and with that came a deep shiver. Not only was the thought disturbing, but her clothing was soaked, and the air was bitterly cold. She picked up her pace and thanked the Nine twice over for looking out for her on this crazy night.

* * *

_**A/N:** Please, if you don't mind checking it out, go to my profile page and vote on the poll there to decide who will be the femaleOC in my future Companions story! Thank you all for the kind reviews, and especially to Suilaid, whom I could not have gotten through my writer's block without. Thank you! =]_

_Hope this chapter wasn't too gross for you guys, hehe._


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